UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
LOS  ANGELES 


UNDER    THE    MISTLETOE. 


Works  of  16.  IP.  QRpe 


VOLUME    ONE 


NATURE'S  SERIAL  STORY 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 
P.    F.    COLLIER    &    SON 

M  C  M  I  I 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1884,  by 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS, 
In  the  office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 

All  rights  rtservtd. 


M 


PREFACE 


"I  AM  getting  very  tired,"  said  a  hard  "brain- worker  to 
me  once.  "Life  is  beginning  to  drag  and  lose  its  zest." 
This  is  an  experience  that  can  scarcely  happen  to  one  who 
has  fallen  in  love  with  Nature,  or  become  deeply  interested 
in  any  of  her  almost  infinite  manifestations.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Clifford  of  my  story  are  not  wholly  the  creations  of  fancy. 
The  aged  man  sketched  in  the  following  pages  was  as  truly 
interested  in  his  garden  and  fruit-trees  after  he  had  passed 
his  fourscore  years  as  any  enthusiastic  horticulturist  in  his 
prime,  and  the  invalid,  whose  memory  dwells  in  my  heart, 
found  a  solace  in  flowers  which  no  words  of  mine  have  ex 
aggerated.  If  this  book  tends  to  bring  others  into  sym 
pathy  with  Nature,  one  of  its  chief  missions  will  be  ful 
filled. 

A  love  for  the  soil  and  all  the  pursuits  of  outdoor  life 
is  one  of  the  most  healthful  signs  in  a  people.  Our  broad 
and  diversified  land  affords  abundant  opportunity  for  the 
gratification  of  every  rural  taste,  and  those  who  form  such 
tastes  will  never  complain  that  life  is  losing  its  zest.  Other 
pleasures  pall  with  time  and  are  satiated.  We  outgrow  them. 
But  every  spring  is  a  new  revelation,  every  summer  a  fresh, 
original  chapter  of  experience,  and  every  autumn  a  fruition 
of  hopes  as  well  as  of  seeds  and  buds.  Nothing  can  con- 

(3) 


PREFACE 

duce  more  to  happiness  and  prosperity  than  multitudes  of 
rural  homes.  In  such  abodes  you  will  not  find  Socialists, 
Nihilists,  and  other  hare-brained  reformers  who  seek  to 
improve  the  world  by  ignoring  nature  and  common-sense. 
Possession  of  the  soil  makes  a  man  conservative,  while  he, 
at  the  same  time,  is  conserved. 

The  culture  of  the  land  is  no  longer  plodding,  ox- like 
drudgery,  nor  is  the  farm  a  place  of  humdrum,  brainless 
routine.  Science  offers  her  aid  on  every  hand,  and  beauty, 
in  numberless  forms,  is  ever  present  to  those  who  have  eyes 
and  hearts  capable  of  recognizing  it.  The  farmer  has  a  lit 
erature  of  his  own,  which  every  year  is  growing  in  propor 
tions  and  value.  He  also  has  time  for  the  best  literature  of 
the  world.  It  is  his  own  fault  if  he  remains  akin  to  the  clod 
he  turns.  Is  it  not  more  manly  to  co-work  with  Nature  for 
a  livelihood  than  to  eke  out  a  pallid,  pitiful  existence  be 
hind  a  counter,  usurping  some  woman's  place  ? 

Nature  is  a  good  mother,  after  all,  in  our  latitude.  She 
does  not  coddle  and  over-indulge  her  children,  but  rewards 
their  love  abundantly,  invigorates  them  if  they  dwell  in  her 
presence,  and  develops  mind  and  muscle,  heart  and  soul,  if 
they  obey  her  laws  and  seek  to  know  her  well.  Although 
infinitely  rich,  she  has  not  the  short-sighted  folly  of  those 
parents  who  seek  to  place  everything  in  the  hand  of  a  child 
without  cost.  On  the  contrary,  she  says,  "See  what  you 
may  win,  what  you  may  attain. ' '  Every  crop  is  a  prize  to 
knowledge,  skill,  industry.  Every  flower  is  a  beautiful 
mystery  which  may  be  solved  in  part;  every  tree  is  stored 
sunshine  for  the  hearth,  shelter  from  the  storm,  a  thing  of 
beauty  while  it  lives,  and  of  varied  use  when  its  life  is 
taken.  In  animals,  birds,  insects,  and  vegetation  we  are 


PREFACE  O 

surrounded  by  diversified  life,  and  our  life  grows  richer, 
more  healthful  and  complete,  as  we  enter  into  their  life 
and  comprehend  it.  The  clouds  above  us  are  not  mere 
reservoirs  of  water  for  prosaic  use.  In  their  light,  shade, 
and  exquisite  coloring  they  are  ever  a  reproach  to  the 
blindness  of  coarse  and  earthy  minds. 

The  love  of  Nature  is  something  that  may  be  developed 
in  every  heart,  and  it  is  a  love  that  rarely  fails  to  purify 
and  exalt.  To  many  she  is  a  cold,  indifferent  beauty. 
They  see,  but  do  not  know  and  appreciate  her,  and  she 
passes  on  her  way  as  if  they  were  nothing  to  her.  But 
when  wooed  patiently  and  lovingly,  she  stops  to  smile, 
caress,  and  entertain  with  exhaustless  diversion. 

In  this  simple  home  story  I  have  talked,  perhaps,  like 
a  garrulous  lover  who  must  speak  of  his  mistress,  even 
though  his  words  weary  others.  I  console  myself,  how 
ever,  with  the  thought  that  my  text  has  proved  the  prosaic 
root  and  stem  which  have  given  being  to  the  exquisite  flow 
ers  of  art  that  adorn  these  pages.  In  Mr.  Gibson  and  Mr. 
Dielman  I  have  had  ideal  associates  in  the  work.  They 
have  poured  light  on  a  landscape  that  would  otherwise  be 
dull  and  gray. 

My  characters  may  seem  shadows  to  others,  but  they 
have  become  real,  or  were  real,  to  me.  I  meet  them  still 
in  walks  and  drives  where  in  fancy  I  had  placed  them  be 
fore.  I  would  not  have  to  go  very  far  to  find  types  of  the 
children  introduced,  but  the  lovers,  and  the  majority  of  the 
others,  began  as  shadows  in  the  background  of  imagination, 
and  took  form  and  substance  with  time.  Dr.  Marvin,  how 
ever,  is  a  reality  and  a  most  valued  friend,  who  has  assisted 
me  greatly  in  my  work.  Any  one  who  has  the  good- for- 


6 


PREFACE 


tune  to  meet  Dr.  E.  A.  Mearns,  surgeon  in  the  regular 
army,  can  scarcely  fail  to  recognize  in  him  the  genial 
sportsman  for  whom  the  birds  were  "always  in  season." 
There  are  others  to  whom  I  am  indebted,  like  John  Bur 
roughs,  Thoreau,  Baird,  Brewer,  and  Eidgway,  true  lovers 
and  interpreters  of  Nature.  Those  living  stand  near  her 
queenly  presence;  those  who  have  passed  on  are  doubtless 
nearer  still.  * 


CONTENTS 


I.  A  COUNTRY  HOME 13 

II.  AMY  WINFIELD 21 

III.  A  COUNTRY  FIRESIDE  .     .....    .    .    .     31 

IV.  G-UNNING  BY  MOONLIGHT    .    ...    .    .    .    38 

V.  CHRISTMAS  EVE  AND  MORNING 43 

VI.  NATURE'S  HALF-KNOWN  SECRETS    ....    48 

VII.  NEIGHBORS  DROP  IN t 54 

VIII.  EAGLES.    .    .    .    .    .    .    .   '. •  *.    .    .    .    .     62 

IX.  SLEIGHING  IN  THE  HIGHLANDS 68 

X.  A  WINTER  THUNDER-STORM 75 

XL  NATURE  UNDER  GLASS 80 

XII.  A  MOUNTAINEER'S  HOVEL 85 

XIII.  ALMOST  A  TRAGEDY .    92 

XIV.  HINTS  OF  SPRING 108 

XV.  NATURE'S  BUILDING  MATERIALS 114 

XVI.  GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD  NEIGHBORS    .    ....  121 

XVII.  FISHING  THROUGH  THE  ICE 142 

XVIII.  PLANNING  AND  OPENING  THE  CAMPAIGN   .    .  148 

XIX.  WINTER'S  EXIT .    .    .160 

XX.  A  ROYAL  CAPTIVE 168 

XXI.  SPRING'S  HARBINGERS 169 

XXII.  FIRST  TIMES 173 

(7) 


8  CONTENTS 

XXIII.  EEGRETS  AND  DUCK-SHOOTING    ....  187 

XXIV.  APRIL 194 

XXV.  EASTER 199 

XXVI.  VERY  MOODY 207 

XXVII.  SHAD-FISHING  BY  PROXY 216 

XXVIII.  MAY  AND  GIRLHOOD 224 

XXIX.  NATURE'S  WORKSHOP .234 

XXX.  SPRING-TIME  PASSION 239 

XXXI.  JUNE  AND  HONEY-BEES    ......  245 

XXXII.  BURT  BECOMES  RATIONAL 256 

XXXIII.  WEBB'S  ROSES  AND  ROMANCE 263 

XXXIV.  A  SHAM  BATTLE  AT  WEST  POINT    .     .     .274 
XXXV.  CHASED  BY  A  THUNDER-SHOWER    .     .     .  278 

XXXVI.  THE  RESCUE  OF  A  HOME 282 

XXXVII.  A  MIDNIGHT  TEMPEST 290 

XXXVIII.  THE  Two  LOVERS 300 

XXXIX.   BURT'S  ADVENTURE 305 

XL.  Miss  HARGROVE 315 

XLI.  A  FIRE  IN  THE  MOUNTAINS 320 

XLIL  CAMPING  OUT 331 

XLIII.  AN  OLD  TENEMENT 343 

XLIV.  "BUT  HE  RISKED  HIS  LIFE?" 350 

XLV.  SUMMER'S  WEEPING  FAREWELL  ....  357 

XLVI.  FATHER  AND  DAUGHTER 364 

XLVII.  DISQUIET  WITHIN  AND  WITHOUT    .     .     .  370 

XLV1II.  IDLEWILD 375 

XLIX.  ECHOES  OF  A  PAST  STORM 379 

L.  IMPULSES  OF  THE  HEART 385 

LI.  WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION    ....  393 

LIT.  BURT'S  SORE  DILEMMA 412 

LIIL  BURT'S  RESOLVE 419 

L1V.  A  GENTLE  EXORCIST .  424 


CONTENTS  9 

LV.  BURT  TELLS  HIS  LOVE  AGAIN 429 

LVI.  WEBB'S  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER 442 

LV1I.  OCTOBER  HUES  AND  HARVESTS 450 

LVIII.  THE  MOONLIGHT  OMEN 455 

LIX.  THE  ROSE  REVEALS  ITS  HEART    .    .    .    .    .  462 
LX.  CHRISTMAS  LIGHTS  AND  SHADOWS    .    .         .  470 


NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 


is  IBoofe 

AFFECTIONATELY    DEDICATED 


NATURE'S   SERIAL  STORY 


CHAPTER   I 

A    COUNTRY    HOME 

HOW  much  it  means — what  possibilities  it  suggests! 
The  one  I  shall  describe  was  built  not  far  from  half 
a  century  ago,  and  the  lapsing  years  have  only  made 
it  more  homelike.  It  has  long  ceased  to  be  a  new  object — 
an  innovation — and  has  become  a  part  of  the  landscape,  like 
the  trees  that  have  grown  up  around  it.  Originally  painted 
brown,  with  the  flight  of  time  it  has  taken  a  grayish  tinge, 
as  if  in  sympathy  with  its  venerable  proprietor.  It  stands 
back  from  the  roadway,  and  in  summer  has  an  air  of  mod 
est  seclusion.  Elms,  maples,  and  shrubbery  give  to  the 
passer-by  but  chance  glimpses  of  the  wide  veranda,  which 
is  indicated,  rather  than  revealed,  beyond  the  thickly  clus 
tering  vines. 

It  is  now  late  December,  and  in  contrast  with  its  leafy 
retirement  the  old  homestead  stands  out  with  a  sharp  dis 
tinctness  in  the  white  landscape;  and  yet  its  sober  hue  har 
monizes  with  the  dark  boles  of  the  trees,  and  suggests  that, 
like  them,  it  is  a  natural  growth  of  the  soil,  and  quite  as 
capable  of  clothing  itself  with  foliage  in  the  coming  spring. 
This  in  a  sense  will  be  true  when  the  greenery  and  blossoms 
of  the  wistaria,  honeysuckle,  and  grape-vines  appear,  for 
their  fibres  and  tendrils  have  clung  to  the  old  house  so  long 
that  they  may  well  be  deemed  an  inseparable  part  of  it. 
Even  now  it  seems  that  the  warmth,  light,  and  comfort 
within  are  the  sustaining  influences  which  will  carry  them 

(13) 


14:  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

through  the  coming  days  of  frost  and  storm.  A  tall  pine- 
tree  towers  above  the  northern  gable  of  the  dwelling,  and 
it  is  ever  sighing  and  moaning  to  itself,  as  if  it  possessed 
some  unhappy  family  secret  which  it  can  neither  reveal  nor 
forget.  On  the  hither  side  of  its  shade  a  carriage- drive 
curves  toward  an  ancient  horse-block,  with  many  a  lichen 
growing  on  the  under  side  of  the  weather-beaten  planks 
and  supports.  From  this  platform,  where  guests  have  been 
alighting  for  a  generation  or  more,  the  drive  passes  to  an 
old-fashioned  carriage-house,  in  which  are  the  great  family 
sleigh  and  a  light  and  gayly  painted  cutter,  revealing  that 
the  home  is  not  devoid  of  the  young  life  to  which  winter's 
most  exhilarating  pastime  is  so  dear.  A  quaint  corn-crib  is 
near,  its  mossy  posts  capped  with  inverted  tin  pans  much 
corroded  by  rust.  These  prevent  prowling  rats  and  mice 
from  climbing  up  among  the  golden  treasures.  Still  fur 
ther  beyond  are  the  gray  old  barn  and  stables,  facing  the 
south.  Near  their  doors  on  the  sunny  side  of  the  ample 
yard  stand  half  a  dozen  ruminating  cows,  with  possibly,  be 
tween  their  wide- branching  horns,  a  dim  consciousness  of 
the  fields,  now  so  white  and  cold,  from  which  were  cropped, 
in  the  long-past  summer,  far  juicier  morsels  than  now  fall 
to  their  lot.  Even  into  their  sheltered  nook  the  sun,  far 
down  in  the  south,  throws  but  cold  and  watery  gleams  from 
a  steel-colored  sky,  and  as  the  northern  blast  eddies  around 
the  sheltering  buildings  the  poor  creatures  shiver,  and  when 
their  morning  airing  is  over  are  glad  to  return  to  their  warm, 
straw-littered  stalls.  Even  the  gallant  and  champion  cock 
of  the  yard  is  chilled.  With  one  foot  drawn  up  into  his 
fluffy  feathers  he  stands  motionless  in  the  midst  of  his  dis 
consolate  harem  with  his  eye  fixed  vacantly  on  the  forbid 
ding  outlook.  His  dames  appear  neither  to  miss  nor  to  in 
vite  his  attentions,  and  their  eyes,  usually  so  bright  and 
alert,  often  film  in  weary  discontent.  Nature,  however,  is 
oblivious  to  all  the  dumb  protests  of  the  barnyard,  and  the 
cold  steadily  strengthens. 

Away  on  every  side  stretch  the  angular  fields,  outlined 


A    COUNTRY   HOME  15 

by  fences  that  are  often  but  white,  continuous  mounds,  and 
also  marked  by  trees  and  shrubs  that,  in  their  earlier  life, 
ran  the  gantlet  of  the  bush-hook.  Here  and  there  the  stones 
of  the  higher  and  more  abrupt  walls  crop  out,  while  the 
board  and  rail  fences  appear  strangely  dwarfed  by  the  snow 
that  has  fallen  and  drifted  around  them.  The  groves  and 
wood- crowned  hills  still  further  away  look  as  drearily  un 
inviting  as  roofless  dwellings  with  icy  hearthstones  and 
smokeless  chimneys.  Towering  above  all,  on  the  right,  is 
Storm  King  mountain,  its  granite  rocks  and  precipices 
showing  darkly  here  and  there,  as  if  its  huge  white  mantle 
were  old  and  ragged  indeed.  One  might  well  shiver  at  the 
lonely,  desolate  wastes  lying  beyond  it,  grim  hills  and  early- 
shadowed  valleys,  where  the  half-starved  fox  prowls,  and 
watches  for  unwary  rabbits  venturing  from  their  coverts  to 
nibble  the  frozen  twigs.  The  river,  which  above  the  High 
lands  broadens  out  into  Newburgh  Bay,  has  become  a  snowy 
plain,  devoid,  on  this  bitter  day,  of  every  sign  of  life.  The 
Beacon  hills,  on  the  further  side,  frown  forbiddingly  through 
the  intervening  northern  gale,  sweeping  southward  into  the 
mountain  gorge. 

On  a  day  like  this  the  most  ardent  lover  of  Nature  could 
scarcely  fail  to  shrink  from  her  cold,  pallid  face  and  colder 
breath.  Our  return  to  the  home,  whose  ruddy  firelight  is 
seen  through  the  frosted  window-panes,  will  be  all  the  more 
welcome  because  we  have  been  shivering  so  long  without. 
The  grace  of  hospitality  has  been  a  characteristic  of  the 
master  of  the  house  for  over  half  a  century,  and  therefore 
the  reader  need  not  fear  to  enter,  especially  at  this  Christ 
mas-time,  when  the  world,  as  if  to  make  amends  for  the 
churlish  welcome  it  gave  to  its  Divine  Guest,  for  whom  no 
better  place  was  found  than  a  stable,  now  throws  open  the 
door  and  heart  in  kindly  feeling  and  unselfish  impulses. 

We  propose  to  make  a  long  visit  at  this  old-fashioned 
homestead.  We  shall  become  the  close  friends  of  its  in 
mates,  and  share  in  their  family  life;  they  will  introduce 
us  to  some  of  their  neighbors,  and  take  us  on  many  breezy 


16  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

drives  and  pleasant  excursions,  with  which  it  is  their  custom 
to  relieve  their  busy  life;  we  shall  take  part  in  their  rural 
labors,  and  learn  from  them  the  secret  of  obtaining  from 
nature  that  which  nourishes  both  soul  and  body ;  they  will 
admit  us  to  their  confidence,  and  give  us  glimpses  of  that 
mystery  of  mysteries,  the  human  heart;  and  we  shall  learn 
how  the  ceaseless  story  of  life,  with  its  hopes  and  fears,  its 
joys  and  sorrows,  repeats  itself  in  the  quiet  seclusion  of  a 
country  home  as  truly  as  in  the  turmoil  of  the  city.  Nor 
would  our  visit  be  complete  did  we  not  witness  among  the 
ripened  fruits  of  conjugal  affection  the  bud  and  blossom  of 
that  immortal  flower  which  first  opened  in  Eden,  and  which 
ever  springs  unbidden  from  the  heart  when  the  conditions 
that  give  it  life  and  sustenance  are  present. 

The  hallway  of  this  central  scene  of  our  story  is  wide, 
and  extends  to  a  small  piazza  in  the  rear.  The  front  half  of 
this  family  thoroughfare,  partitioned  off  by  sliding- doors, 
can  thus  be  made  into  a  roomy  apartment.  Its  breezy  cool 
ness  causes  it  to  be  a  favorite  resort  on  sultry  days,  but  now 
it  is  forsaken,  except  that  a  great  heater,  with  its  ample  ro 
tundity  and  glowing  heart,  suggests  to  the  visitor  that  it 
stands  there  as  a  representative  of  the  host  until  he  shall 
appear.  Some  portraits,  a  fine  old  engraving,  a  map  of  the 
county,  and  some  sprays  of  evergreen  intermingled  with  red 
berries,  take  away  all  bareness  from  the  walls,  while  in  a 
corner  near  the  door  stands  a  rack,  formed  in  part  by  the 
branching  antlers  of  a  stag,  on  which  hang  fur  caps  and 
collars,  warm  wraps  and  coats,  all  suggesting  abundant 
means  of  robbing  winter  of  its  rigor.  On  hooks  above  the 
sliding- doors  are  suspended  a  modern  rifle  and  a  double- 
barrelled  shot-gun,  and  above  these  is  a  firelock  musket 
that  did  good  service  in  the  Revolution. 

The  doors  opening  into  the  rear  hall  were  pushed  back, 
revealing  a  broad  stairway,  leading  with  an  abrupt  turn 
and  a  landing  to  the  upper  chambers.  A  cheerful  apartment 
on  the  left  of  this  hall  was  the  abode  of  an  invalid,  whose 
life  for  many  years  disease  had  vainly  sought  to  darken. 


A    COUNTRY   HOME  17 

There  were  lines  of  suffering  on  her  thin,  white  face,  and 
her  hair,  once  black,  was  silvered;  but  it  would  seem  that, 
in  the  dark,  lustrous  eyes  of  the  patient  woman,  courage 
and  hope  had  been  kindled,  rather  than  quenched,  by  pain. 
She  was  now  reclining  on  a  sofa,  which  had  been  wheeled 
near  to  a  wood-fire  glowing  on  the  hearth  of  a  large  Frank 
lin  stove;  and  her  dreamy,  absent  expression  often  gave 
place  to  one  of  passing  interest  as  her  husband,  sitting  op 
posite,  read  from  his  paper  an  item  of  news — some  echo 
from  the  busy,  troubled  world,  that  seemed  so  remote  from 
their  seclusion  and  peaceful  age.  The  venerable  man  ap 
peared,  however,  as  if  he  might  still  do  his  share  in  keep 
ing  the  world  busy,  and  also  in  banishing  its  evils.  Al 
though  time  had  whitened  his  locks,  it  had  touched  kindly 
his  stalwart  frame,  while  his  square  jaw  and  strong  features 
indicated  a  character  that  had  met  life's  vicissitudes  as  a 
man  should  meet  them.  His  native  strength  and  force, 
however,  were  like  the  beautiful  region  in  which  he  dwelt 
— once  wild  and  rugged  indeed,  but  now  softened  and  hu 
manized  by  generations  of  culture.  Even  his  spectacles 
could  not  obscure  the  friendly  and  benevolent  expression 
of  his  large  blue  eyes.  It  was  evident  that  he  looked  at  the 
world,  as  mirrored  before  him  in  the  daily  journal,  with 
neither  cynicism  nor  mere  curiosity,  but  with  a  heart  in 
sympathy  with  all  the  influences  that  were  making  it  better. 

The  sound  of  a  bell  caused  the  old  man  to  rise  and  as 
sist  his  wife  to  her  feet;  then,  with  an  affectionate  manner, 
tinged  with  a  fine  courtesy  of  the  old  school,  he  supported 
her  to  the  dining-room,  placed  her  in  a  cushioned  chair  on 
his  right,  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  drew  a  footstool  to 
her  feet.  There  was  a  gentleness  and  solicitude  in  his  bear 
ing  which  indicated  that  her  weakness  was  more  potent  than 
strength  would  have  been  in  maintaining  her  ascendency. 

Meanwhile  the  rest  of  the  family  flocked  in  with  an  alac 
rity  which  proved  either  that  the  bitter  cold  had  sharpened 
their  appetites,  or  that  the  old-fashioned  one-o'clock  dinner 
was  a  cheerful  break  in  the  monotony  of  the  day.  There 


18  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

was  a  middle- aged  man,  who  was  evidently  the  strong  stay 
and  staff  on  which  the  old  people  leaned.  His  wife  was  the 
housekeeper  of  the  family,  and  she  was  emphatically  the 
"house-mother,"  as  the  Germans  phrase  it.  Every  line  of 
her  good,  but  rather  care-worn,  face  bespoke  an  anxious 
solicitude  about  everybody  and  everything  except  herself. 
It  was  apparent  that  she  had  inherited  not  a  little  of  the 
"Martha"  spirit,  and  "was  careful  about  many  things;" 
but  her  slight  tendency  to  worry  saved  others  a  world  of 
worriment,  for  she  was  the  household  providence,  and  her 
numberless  little  anxieties  led  to  so  much  prevention  of  evil 
that  there  was  not  much  left  to  cure.  Such  was  her  untir 
ing  attention  that  her  thoughtless,  growing  children  seemed 
cared  for  by  the  silent  forces  of  nature.  Their  clothes  came 
to  them  like  the  leaves  on  the  trees,  and  her  deft  fingers 
added  little  ornaments  that  cost  the  wearers  no  more 
thought  than  did  the  blossoms  of  spring  to  the  uncon 
scious  plants  of  the  garden.  She  was  as  essential  to  her 
husband  as  the  oxygen  in  the  air,  and  he  knew  it,  although 
demonstrating  his  knowledge  rather  quietly,  perhaps.  But 
she  understood  him,  and  enjoyed  a  little  secret  exultation 
over  the  strong  man's  almost  ludicrous  helplessness  and 
desolation  when  her  occasional  absences  suspended  for  a 
brief  time  their  conjugal  partnership.  She  surrounded  the 
old  people  with  a  perpetual  Indian-summer  haze  of  kindli 
ness,  which  banished  all  hard,  bleak  outlines  from  their 
late  autumnal  life.  In  brief,  she  was  what  God  and  nature 
designed  woman  to  be — the  gracious,  pervading  spirit,  that 
filled  the  roomy  house  with  comfort  and  rest.  Sitting  near 
were  her  eldest  son  and  pride,  a  lad  about  thirteen  years  of 
age,  and  a  girl  who,  when  a  baby,  had  looked  so  like  a  boy 
that  her  father  had  called  her  "Johnnie,"  a  sobriquet  which 
still  clung  to  her.  Close  to  the  mother's  side  was  a  little 
embodiment  of  vitality,  mischief,  and  frolic,  in  the  form  of 
a  four- year-old  boy,  the  dear  torment  of  the  whole  house. 

There  remain  but  two  others  to  be  mentioned,  and  the 
Clifford  family  will  be  complete,  as  constituted  at  present. 


A    COUNTRY  HOME  19 

The  first  was  the  youngest  son  of  the  aged  man  at  the  head 
of  the  table.  He  had  inherited  his  father's  features,  but 
there  was  a  dash  of  recklessness  blended  with  the  manifest 
frankness  of  his  expression,  and  in  his  blue  eyes  there  was 
little  trace  of  shrewd  calculation  or  forethought.  Even 
during  the  quiet  midday  meal  they  flashed  with  an  irre 
pressible  mirthfulness,  and  not  one  at  the  table  escaped  his 
aggressive  nonsense.  His  brother,  two  or  three  years  his 
senior,  was  of  a  very  different  type,  and  seemed  somewhat 
overshadowed  by  the  other's  brilliancy.  He  had  his 
mother's  dark  eyes,  but  they  were  deep  and  grave,  and 
he  appeared  reserved  and  silent,  even  in  the  home  circle. 
His  bronzed  features  were  almost  rugged  in  their  strength, 
but  a  heavy  mustache  gave  a  touch  of  something  like  manly 
beauty  to  his  rather  sombre  face.  You  felt  instinctively 
that  he  was  one  who  would  take  life  seriously — perhaps  a 
little  too  seriously — and  that,  whether  it  brought  him  joy 
or  sorrow,  he  would  admit  the  world  but  charily  to  his 
confidence. 

Burtis,  the  youngest  brother,  had  gone  through  college 
after  a  sort  of  neck-or-nothing  fashion,  and  had  been  des 
tined  for  one  of  the  learned  professions;  but,  while  his 
natural  ability  had  enabled  him  to  run  the  gantlet  of  ex 
aminations,  he  had  evinced  such  an  unconquerable  dislike 
for  restraint  and  plodding  study  that  he  had  been  welcomed 
back  to  the  paternal  acres,  which  were  broad  enough  for 
them  all.  Mr.  Clifford,  by  various  means,  had  acquired 
considerable  property  in  his  day,  and  was  not  at  all  disap 
pointed  that  his  sons  should  prefer  the  primal  calling  to  any 
other,  since  it  was  within  his  power  to  establish  them  well 
when  they  were  ready  for  a  separate  domestic  life.  It  -must 
be  admitted,  however,  that  thus  far  the  rural  tastes  of  Bur 
tis  were  chiefly  for  free  out-of-door  life,  with  its  accessories 
of  rod,  gun,  and  horses.  But  Leonard,  the  eldest,  and 
Webb,  the  second  in  years,  were  true  children  of  the  soil, 
in  the  better  sense  of  the  term.  Their  country  home  had 
been  so  replete  with  interest  from  earliest  memory  that  they 


20  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

had  taken  root  there  like  the  trees  which  their  father  had 
planted.  Leonard  was  a  practical  farmer,  content,  in  a 
measure,  to  follow  the  traditions  of  the  elders.  Webb,  on 
the  other  hand,  was  disposed  to  look  past  the  outward  as 
pects  of  Nature  to  her  hidden  moods  and  motives,  and  to 
take  all  possible  advantage  of  his  discoveries.  The  farm 
was  to  him  a  laboratory,  and,  with  something  of  the  spirit 
of  the  old  alchemists,  he  read,  studied,  and  brooded  over 
the  problem  of  producing  the  largest  results  at  the  least 
cost.  He  was  by  no  means  deficient  in  imagination,  or 
even  in  appreciation  of  the  beautiful  side  of  nature,  when 
his  thoughts  were  directed  to  this  phase  of  the  outer  world; 
but  his  imagination  had  become  materialistic,  and  led  only 
to  an  eager  quest  after  the  obscure  laws  of  cause  and  effect, 
which  might  enable  him  to  accomplish  what  to  his  plodding 
neighbors  would  seem  almost  miraculous.  He  understood 
that  the  forces  with  which  he  was  dealing  were  wellnigh 
infinite;  and  it  was  his  delight  to  study  them,  to  combine 
them,  and  make  them  his  servants.  It  was  his  theory  that 
the  energy  in  nature  was  like  a  vast  motive  power,  over 
which  man  could  throw  the  belt  of  his  skill  and  knowl 
edge,  and  so  produce  results  commensurate  with  the  force 
of  which  he  availed  himself.  There  was,  therefore,  an  un 
failing  zest  in  his  work,  and  the  majority  of  his  labors  had 
the  character  of  experiments,  which,  nevertheless,  were  so 
guided  by  experience  that  they  were  rarely  futile  or  unre- 
munerative.  On  themes  that  accorded  with  his  tastes  and 
pursuits  he  would  often  talk  earnestly  and  well,  but  his 
silence  and  preoccupation  at  other  times  proved  that  it  is 
not  best  to  be  dominated  by  one  idea,  even  though  it  be  a 
large  one. 


AMY    WINF1ELD 


CHAPTER  II 

AMY    WINFIE  LD 

THE  reader  may  now  consider  himself  introduced  to 
the  household  with  whom  he  is  invited  to  sojourn. 
In  time  he  will  grow  better  acquainted  with  the  dif 
ferent  members  of  the  family,  as  they  in  their  several  ways 
develop  their  own  individuality.  A  remark  from  old  Mr. 
Clifford  indicates  that  another  guest  is  expected,  who,  unlike 
ourselves,  will  be  present  in  reality,  not  fancy,  and  who  is 
destined  to  become  a  permanent  inmate  of  the  home. 

"This  is  a  bitter  day,"  he  said,  "for  little  Amy  to  come 
to  us;  and  yet,  unless  something  unforeseen  prevents,  she 
will  be  at  the  station  this  evening." 

"Don't  worry  about  the  child,"  Burtis  responded, 
promptly;  "I'll  meet  her,  and  am  glad  of  an  excuse  to 
go  out  this  horrid  day.  I'll  wrap  her  up  in  furs  like  an 
Esquimau." 

"Yes,  and  upset  her  in  the  drifts  with  your  reckless  driv 
ing,"  said  good-natured  Leonard.  "Thunder  is  wild  enough 
at  any  time ;  but  of  late,  between  the  cold,  high  feeding,  and 
idleness,  he'll  have  to  be  broken  over  again:  lucky  if  he 
don't  break  your  neck  in  the  operation.  The  little  girl  will 
feel  strange  enough,  anyway,  coming  among  people  that  she 
has  never  seen,  and  I  don't  intend  that  she  shall  be  fright 
ened  out  of  her  wits  into  the  bargain  by  your  harum-scarum 
ways.  You'd  give  her  the  impression  that  we  were  only 
half-civilized.  So  I'll  drive  over  for  her  in  the  family 
sleigh,  and  take  Alf  with  me.  He  will  be  nearer  her  own 
age,  and  help  to  break  the  ice.  If  you  want  a  lark,  go  out 


ZZ  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

by  yourself,  and  drive  where  you  please,  after  your  own 
break- neck  style." 

"Leonard  is  right,"  resumed  Mr.  Clifford,  emphatically. 
"The  ward  committed  to  me  by  my  dear  old  friend  should 
be  brought  to  her  home  with  every  mark  of  respect  and 
affection  by  the  one  who  has  the  best  right  to  represent 
me.  I'd  go  myself,  were  not  the  cold  so  severe;  but  then 
Leonard's  ways  are  almost  as  fatherly  as  my  own;  and  when 
his  good  wife  there  gets  hold  of  the  child  she'll  soon  be 
fused  into  the  family,  in  spite  of  the  zero  weather.  She'll 
find  all  the  cold  without  the  door. ' ' 

"I  yield,"  said  Burtis,  with  a  careless  laugh.  "Len 
shall  bring  home  the  little  chick,  and  put  her  under  his 
wife's  wing.  I  should  probably  misrepresent  the  family, 
and  make  a  bad  first  impression;  and  as  for  Webb,  you 
might  as  well  send  the  undertaker  for  her." 

"I  don't  think  she  will  feel  strange  among  us  very 
long,"  said  Leonard's  wife.  "She  shall  hang  up  her  stock 
ing  to-night,  like  the  other  children,  and  I  have  some  nice 
little  knick-knacks  with  which  to  fill  it.  These,  and  the 
gifts  which  the  rest  of  you  have  provided,  will  delight  her, 
as  they  do  all  little  people,  and  make  her  feel  at  once  that 
she  is  part  of  the  family." 

"Maggie  expresses  my  purpose  fully,"  concluded  Mr. 
Clifford.  "As  far  as  it  is  within  our  power,  we  should 
make  her  one  of  the  family.  In  view  of  my  friend's  let 
ters,  this  is  the  position  that  I  desire  her  to  sustain,  and  it 
will  be  the  simplest  and  most  natural  relation  for  us  all. 
Your  mother  and  I  will  receive  her  as  a  daughter,  and  it  is 
my  wish  that  my  sons  should  treat  her  as  a  sister  from  the 
first." 

Amy  Winfield,  the  subject  of  the  above  remarks,  was 
the  only  daugher  of  a  gentleman  who  had  once  been  Mr. 
Clifford's  most  intimate  friend,  and  also  his  partner  in  many 
business  transactions.  Mr.  Winfield  had  long  resided  abroad, 
and  there  had  lost  the  wife  whom  he  had  married  rather 
late  in  life.  When  feeling  his  own  end  drawing  near,  his 


AMY    WINFIELD  23 

thoughts  turned  wistfully  to  the  friend  of  his  early  man 
hood,  and,  as  he  recalled  Mr.  Clifford's  rural  home,  he  felt 
that  he  could  desire  no  better  refuge  for  his  child.  He  had 
always  written  of  her  as  his  "little  girl,"  and  such  she  was 
in  his  fond  eyes,  although  in  fact  she  had  seen  eighteen 
summers.  Her  slight  figure  and  girlish  ways  had  never 
dispelled  the  illusion  that  she  was  still  a  child,  and  as  such 
he  had  commended  her  to  his  friend,  who  had  responded  to 
the  appeal  as  to  a  sacred  claim,  and  had  already  decided  to 
give  her  a  daughter's  place  in  his  warm  heart.  Mr.  Win- 
field  could  not  have  chosen  a  better  guardian  for  the  orphan 
and  her  property,  and  a  knowledge  of  this  truth  had  soothed 
the  last  hours  of  the  dying  man. 

It  struck  Leonard  that  the  muffled  figure  he  picked  up 
at  the  station  and  carried  through  the  dusk  and  snow  to  the 
sleigh  was  rather  tall  and  heavy  for  the  child  he  was  expect 
ing;  but  he  wrapped  her  warmly,  almost  beyond  the  possi 
bility  of  speaking,  or  even  breathing,  and  spoke  the  hearty 
and  encouraging  words  which  are  naturally  addressed  to  a 
little  girl.  After  seeing  that  her  trunks  were  safely  be 
stowed  in  a  large  box-sledge,  under  the  charge  of  black 
Abram,  one  of  the  farm-hands,  he  drove  rapidly  home 
ward,  admonishing  Alfred,  on  the  way,  "to  be  sociable." 
The  boy,  however,  had  burrowed  so  deep  under  the  robes 
as  to  be  invisible  and  oblivious.  When  Leonard  was  about 
to  lift  her  out  of  the  sleigh,  as  he  had  placed  her  in  it,  the 
young  girl  protested,  and  said: 

"I  fear  I  shall  disappoint  you  all  by  being  larger  and 
older  than  you  expect. ' ' 

A  moment  later  he  was  surprised  to  find  that  the  "child" 
was  as  tall  as  his  wife,  who,  with  abounding  motherly  kind 
ness,  had  received  the  girl  into  open  arms.  Scarcely  less 
demonstrative  and  affectionate  was  the  greeting  of  old  Mr. 
Clifford,  and  the  orphan  felt,  almost  from  the  first,  that  she 
had  found  a  second  father. 

"Why,  Maggie,"  whispered  Leonard,  "the  child  is  as 
tall  as  you  are!" 


24  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"There's  only  the  more  to  welcome,  then,"  was  the 
genial  answer,  and,  turning  to  the  young  girl,  she  con 
tinued,  "Come  with  me,  my  dear;  I'm  not  going  to  have 
you  frightened  and  bewildered  with  all  your  new  relations 
before  you  can  take  breath.  You  shall  unwrap  in  your  own 
room,  and  feel  from  the  start  that  you  have  a  nook  where 
no  one  can  molest  you  or  make  you  afraid,  to  which  you 
can  always  retreat;"  and  she  led  the  way  to  a  snug  apart 
ment,  where  an  air-tight  stove  created  summer  warmth. 
There  was  a  caressing  touch  in  Mrs.  Leonard's  assistance 
which  the  young  girl  felt  in  her  very  soul,  for  tears  came 
into  her  eyes  as  with  a  deep  sigh  of  relief  she  sat  down  on 
a  low  chair. 

"I  feared  I  should  be  a  stranger  among  strangers,"  she 
murmured;  "but  1  already  feel  as  if  I  were  at  home." 

"You  are,  Amy,"  was  the  prompt  reply,  spoken  with 
that  quiet  emphasis  which  banishes  all  trace  of  doubt. 
"You  are  at  home  as  truly  as  I  am.  There  is  nothing  half 
way  in  this  house.  Do  you  know  we  all  thought  that  you 
were  a  child  ?  I  now  foresee  that  we  shall  be  companions, 
and  very  companionable,  too,  I  am  sure. ' ' 

There  was  a  world  of  grateful  good-will  in  the  dark  hazel 
eyes  which  Amy  lifted  to  the  motherly  face  bending  over 
her. 

"And  now  come,"  pursued  Mrs.  Leonard;  "mother 
Clifford,  the  boys,  and  the  children  are  all  eager  to  see 
you.  You  won't  find  much  ice  to  break,  and  before  the 
evening  is  over  you  will  feel  that  you  belong  to  us  and 
we  to  you.  Don't  be  afraid. " 

"I  am  not  afraid  any  more.  I  was,  though,  on  my  way 
here.  Everything  looked  so  cold  and  dismal  from  the  car 
windows,  and  the  gentleman  in  whose  care  I  was  had  little 
to  say,  though  kind  and  attentive  enough.  I  was  left  to  my 
own  thoughts,  and  gave  way  to  a  foolish  depression;  but 
when  your  husband  picked  me  up  in  his  strong  arms,  and 
reassured  me  as  if  I  were  a  little  girl,  my  feeling  of  desola 
tion  began  to  pass  away.  Your  greeting  and  dear  old  Mr. 


AMY    WINFIELD  25 

Clifford's  have  banished  it  altogether.  I  felt  as  if  my  own 
father  were  blessing  me  in  the  friend  who  is  now  my  guar 
dian,  and  of  whom  I  have  heard  so  often;  and,  after  my 
long  winter  journey  among  strangers,  you've  no  idea  what 
a  refuge  this  warm  room  has  already  become.  Oh,  I  know 
I  shall  be  happy.  I  only  wish  that  dear  papa  knew  how 
well  he  has  provided  for  me." 

"He  knows,  my  dear.  But  come,  or  that  incorrigible 
Burt  will  be  bursting  upon  us  in  his  impatience,  and  the 
little  mother  must  not  be  kept  waiting,  either.  You  will 
soon  learn  to  love  her  dearly.  Weak  and  gentle  as  she  is, 
she  rules  us  all." 

"Mother's  room"  was,  in  truth,  the  favorite  haunt  of  the 
house,  and  only  her  need  of  quiet  kept  it  from  being  full 
much  of  the  time.  There  was  nothing  bleak  or  repelling  in 
the  age  it  sheltered,  and  children  and  grandchildren  gath 
ered  about  the  old  people  almost  as  instinctively  as  around 
their  genial  open  fire.  This  momentous  Christmas-eve  found 
them  all  there,  a  committee  of  reception  awaiting  the  new 
inmate  of  their  home.  There  was  an  eager  desire  to  know 
what  Amy  was  like,  but  it  was  a  curiosity  wholly  devoid  of 
the  spirit  of  criticism.  The  circumstances  under  which  the 
orphan  came  to  them  would  banish  any  such  tendency  in 
people  less  kindly  than  the  Cliffords;  but  their  home-life 
meant  so  much  to  them  all  that  they  were  naturally  solici 
tous  concerning  one  who  must,  from  the  intimate  relations 
she  would  sustain,  take  from  or  add  much  to  it.  Therefore 
it  was  with  a  flutter  of  no  ordinary  expectancy  that  they 
waited  for  her  appearance.  The  only  one  indifferent  was 
Leonard's  youngest  boy,  who,  astride  his  grandpa's  cane, 
was  trotting  quietly  about,  unrestricted  in  his  gambols. 
Alfred  had  thawed  out  since  his  return  from  the  station, 
and  was  eager  to  take  the  measure  of  a  possible  playmate; 
but,  with  the  shyness  of  a  boy  who  is  to  meet  a  "strange 
girl,"  he  sought  a  partial  cover  behind  his  grandfather's 
chair.  Little  "Johnnie"  was  flitting  about  impatiently, 
with  her  least  mutilated  doll  upon  her  arm;  while  her 

Tol- 1       aB 


26  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

uncle  Burtis,  seated  on  a  low  stool  by  his  mother's  sofa, 
pretended  to  be  exceedingly  jealous,  and  was  deprecating 
the  fact  that  he  would  now  be  no  longer  petted  as  her 
baby,  since  the  child  of  her  adoption  must  assuredly  take 
his  place.  Webb,  who,  as  usual,  was  somewhat  apart  from 
the  family  group,  kept  up  a  poor  pretence  of  reading;  and 
genial  Leonard  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  his  hands 
clasped  behind  him,  beaming  upon  all,  and  waiting  to  shine 
on  the  new-comer.  Only  Mr.  Clifford  seemed  uninfluenced 
by  the  warm,  bright  present.  He  gazed  fixedly  into  the 
flickering  blaze,  and  occasionally  took  off  his  spectacles  to 
wipe  away  the  moisture  that  gathered  in  his  eyes.  His 
thoughts,  evidently,  were  busy  with  years  long  past,  and 
were  following  that  old,  tried  friend  who  had  committed  to 
his  hands  so  sacred  a  trust. 

The  door  opened,  and  Mrs.  Leonard  led  Amy  forward. 
The  latter  hesitated  a  moment,  bewildered  by  the  number 
of  eyes  turned  toward  her,  and  the  new  relations  into  which 
she  was  entering.  She  proved  that  she  was  not  a  child  by 
her  quick,  blushing  consciousness  of  the  presence  of  two 
young  men,  who  were  as  yet  utter  strangers;  and  they,  in 
turn,  involuntarily  gave  to  the  lender,  brown-haired  girl 
quite  a  different  welcome  from  the  one  they  had  expected 
to  bestow  upon  a  child.  Old  Mr.  Clifford  did  not  permit 
her  embarrassment  to  last  a  moment,  but,  stepping  hastily 
forward,  and  encircling  her  with  his  arm,  he  led  her  to  his 
wife,  who  brought  tears  into  the  eyes  of  the  motherless  girl 
by  the  gentle  warmth  of  her  greeting.  She  monopolized  her 
ward  so  long  that  impatient  Burtis  began  to  expostulate, 
and  ask  when  his  turn  was  coming.  The  young  girl  turned 
a  shy,  blushing  face  toward  him,  and  her  cheeks,  mantling 
under  the  full  rays  of  the  lamp,  rendered  the  exquisite 
purity  of  her  complexion  all  the  more  apparent.  He  also 
began  to  feel  that  he  was  flushing  absurdly,  but  he  carried 
it  off  with  his  usual  audacity. 

"I  am  much  embarrassed  and  perplexed,"  he  said.  "I 
was  led  to  expect  a  little  sister  that  I  could  romp  with,  and 


AMY   W1NFIELD  27 

pick  up  and  kiss;  but  here  is  a  young  lady  that  almost 
paralyzes  me  with  awe." 

"I'd  like  to  see  you  paralyzed  from  any  such  cause  just 
once,"  Leonard  remarked,  laughing,y.  "Go  kiss  your  sis 
ter,  like  a  little  man." 

The  young  fellow  seemed  to  relish  the  ceremony  exceed 
ingly,  and  responsive  mirthfulness  gleamed  for  a  moment 
in  Amy's  eyes.  Then  he  dragged  Webb  forward,  saying, 
"Let  me  introduce  to  you  the  grave  and  learned  member  of 
the  family,  to  whom  we  all  speak  with  bated  breath.  You 
must  not  expect  him  to  get  acquainted  with  you  in  any  or 
dinary  way.  t  He  will  investigate  you,  and  never  rest  until 
he  has  discovered  all  the  hidden  laws  of  your  being.  Now, 
Webb,  I  will  support  you  while  Amy  kisses  you,  and  then 
you  may  sit  down  and  analyze  your  sensations,  and  perhaps 
cipher  out  a  method  by  which  a  kiss  can  be  rendered  tenfold 
more  effective." 

Unmoved  by  his  brother's  raillery,  Webb  took  the  young 
girl's  hand,  and  looked  at  her  so  earnestly  with  his  dark, 
grave  eyes,  that  hers  drooped.  "Sister  Amy,"  he  said, 
gently,  "I  was  prepared  to  welcome  you  on  general  princi 
ples,  but  1  now  welcome  you  for  your  own  sake.  Rattle 
brain  Burt  will  make  a  good  playmate,  but  you  will  come 
to  me  when  you  are  in  trouble;"  and  he  kissed  her  brow. 

The  girl  looked  up  with  a  swift,  grateful  glance;  it 
seemed  odd  to  her,  even  at  that  moment  of  strong  and 
confused  impressions,  and  with  the  salutes  of  her  guardians 
still  warm  upon  her  cheek,  that  she  felt  a  sense  of  rest  and 
security  never  known  before.  "He  will  be  my  brother  in 
very  truth,"  was  the  interpretation  which  her  heart  gave 
to  his  quiet  words.  They  all  smiled,  for  the  course  of  the 
reticent  and  undemonstrative  young  man  was  rather  unex 
pected.  Burtis  indulged  in  a  ringing  laugh,  as  he  said: 

"Father,  mother,  you  must  both  feel  wonderfully  re 
lieved.  Webb  is  to  look  after  Amy  in  her  hours  of  woe, 
which,  of  course,  will  be  frequent  in  this  vale  of  tears.  He 
will  console  you,  Amy,  by  explaining  how  tears  are  formed, 


28  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

and  how,  by  a  proper  regard  for  the  sequence  of  cause  and 
effect,  there  might  be  more  or  less  of  them,  according  to 
your  desire." 

"I  think  I  understand  Webb,"  was  her  smiling  answer. 

"Don't  imagine  it.  He  is  a  perfect  sphinx.  Never  be 
fore  has  he  opened  his  mouth  so  widely,  and  only  an  occasion 
like  this  could  have  moved  him.  You  must  have  uncon 
sciously  revealed  a  hidden  law,  or  else  he  would  have  been 
as  mum  as  an  oyster." 

Leonard,  meanwhile,  had  seated  himself,  and  was  hold 
ing  little  Ned  on  his  knee,  his  arm  at  the  same  time  encir 
cling  shy,  sensitive  Johnnie,  who  was  fairly  tremblng  with 
excited  expectancy.  Ned,  with  his  thumb  in  his  mouth, 
regarded  his  new  relative  in  a  nonchalant  manner;  but  to 
the  little  girl  the  home-world  was  the  world,  and  the  arrival 
in  its  midst  of  the  beautiful  lady  never  seen  before  was  as 
wonderful  as  any  fairy  tale.  Indeed,  that  such  a  June-like 
creature  should  come  to  them  that  wintry  day — that  she  had 
crossed  the  terrible  ocean  from  a  foreign  realm  far  more  re 
mote,  in  the  child's  consciousness,  than  fairy-land — seemed 
quite  as  strange  as  if  Cinderella  had  stepped  out  of  the  story 
book  with  the  avowed  purpose  of  remaining  with  them  until 
her  lost  slipper  was  found.  Leonard,  big  and  strong  as  he 
was,  felt  and  interpreted  the  delicate  and  thrilling  organism 
of  his  child,  and,  as  Amy  turned  toward  him,  he  said,  with 
a  smile: 

"No  matter  about  me.  We're  old  friends;  for  I've 
known  you  ever  since  you  were  a  little  girl  at  the  station. 
What  if  you  did  grow  to  be  a  young  woman  while  riding 
home !  Stranger  things  than  that  happen  every  day  in  story 
books,  don't  they,  Johnnie?  Johnnie,  you  must  know,  has 
the  advantage  of  the  rest  of  us.  She  likes  bread-and-butter, 
and  kindred  realities  of  our  matter-of-fact  sphere,  but  she 
also  has  a  world  of  her  own,  which  is  quite  as  real.  I  think 
she  is  inclined  to  believe  that  you  are  a  fairy  princess,  and 
that  you  may  have  a  wand  in  your  pocket  by  which  you  can 
restore  to  her  doll  the  missing  nose  and  arm." 


AMY    WINFIELD  29 

Amy  scarcely  needed  Leonard's  words  in  order  to  under 
stand  the  child,  for  the  period  was  not  remote  when,  in  her 
own  mind,  the  sharp  outlines  of  fact  had  shaded  off  into  the 
manifold  mysteries  of  wonderland.  Therefore,  with  an  ap 
preciation  and  a  gentleness  which  won  anew  all  hearts,  she 
took  the  little  girl  on  her  lap,  and  said,  smilingly: 

"I  have  a  wee  wand  with  which,  I'm  sure,  I  can  do  much 
for  you,  and  perhaps  something  for  dolly.  I  can't  claim  to 
be  a  fairy  princess,  but  I  shall  try  to  be  as  good  to  you  as 
if  I  were  one. ' ' 

Webb,  with  his  book  upside  down,  looked  at  the  young 
girl  in  a  way  which  proved  that  he  shared  in  Johnnie's 
wonder  and  vague  anticipation.  Alfred,  behind  his  grand 
father's  chair,  was  the  only  one  who  felt  aggrieved  and  dis 
appointed.  Thus  far  he  had  been  overlooked,  but  he  did 
not  much  care,  for  this  great  girl  could  be  no  companion 
for  him.  Amy,  however,  had  woman's  best  grace — tact — 
and  guessed  his  trouble.  "Alf,"  she  said,  calling  him  by 
his  household  name,  and  turning  upon  him  her  large  hazel 
eyes,  which  contained  spells  as  yet  unknown  even  to  herself 
— "Alf,  don't  be  disappointed.  You  shall  find  that  I  am 
not  too  big  to  play  with  you." 

The  boy  yielded  at  once  to  a  grace  which  he  would  be 
years  in  learning  to  understand,  and  which  yet  affected  him 
subtilely,  and  with  something  of  the  same  influence  that  it 
had  upon  Webb,  who  felt  that  a  new  element  was  entering 
into  his  life.  Mercurial  Burtis,  however,  found  nothing 
peculiar  in  his  own  pleasant  sensations.  He  had  a  score 
of  young  lady  friends,  and  was  merely  delighted  to  find  in 
Amy  a  very  attractive  young  woman,  instead  of  a  child  or 
a  dull,  plain- featured  girl,  toward  whom  brotherly  atten 
tions  might  often  become  a  bore.  He  lived  intensely  in  the 
present  hour,  and  was  more  than  content  that  his  adopted 
sister  was  quite  to  his  taste. 

"Well,  Amy,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  benignantly,  "you 
seem  to  have  stepped  in  among  us  as  if  there  had  always 
been  a  niche  waiting  for  you,  and  I  think  that,  after  you 


30  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

have  broken  bread  with  us,  and  have  had  a  quiet  sleep 
under  the  old  roof,  you  will  feel  at  home.  Come,  I'm 
going  to  take  you  out  to  supper  to-night,  and,  Burt,  do 
you  be  as  gallant  to  your  mother." 

The  young  fellow  made  them  all  laugh  by  imitating  his 
father's  old-style  courtesy;  and  a  happy  circle  of  faces  gath 
ered  around  the  board  in  the  cheerful  supper- room,  to  which 
a  profuse  decoration  of  evergreens  gave  a  delightfully  aro 
matic  odor.  Mr.  Clifford's  "grace"  was  not  a  formal  mum 
ble,  but  a  grateful  acknowledgment  of  the  source  from 
which,  as  he  truly  believed,  had  flowed  all  the  good  that 
had  blessed  their  life;  and  then  followed  the  genial,  unre 
strained  table-talk  of  a  household  that,  as  yet,  possessed  no 
closeted  skeleton.  The  orphan  sat  among  them,  and  her 
mourning  weeds  spoke  of  a  great  and  recent  sorrow,  which 
might  have  been  desolation,  but  already  her  kindling  eyes 
and  flushed  cheeks  proved  that  this  strong,  bright  current  of 
family  life  would  have  the  power  to  carry  her  forward  to  a 
new,  spring-like  experience.  To  her  foreign- bred  eyes  there 
was  an  abundance  of  novelty  in  this  American  home,  but  it 
was  like  the  strangeness  of  heaven  to  the  poor  girl,  who  for 
months  had  been  so  sad  and  almost  despairing.  With  the 
strong  reaction  natural  to  youth  after  long  depression,  her 
heart  responded  to  the  glad  life  about  her,  and  again  she 
repeated  the  words  to  herself,  "I'm  sure — oh,  I  am  sure 
I  shall  be  happy  here." 


CHAPTER  III 

A   COUNTRY   FIRESIDE 

AFTER  supper  they  all  gathered  for  a  time  in  the  large 
general  sitting-room,  and  careful  Leonard  went  the 
rounds  of  the  barn  and  out- buildings.  Mr.  Clifford, 
with  considerate  kindness,  had  resolved  to  defer  all  conver 
sation  with  Amy  relating  to  her  bereavement  and  the  scenes 
that  had  ensued.  At  this  holiday-time  they  would  make 
every  effort  within  their  power  to  pierce  with  light  and 
warmth  the  cold  gray  clouds  that  of  late  had  gathered  so 
heavily  over  the  poor  child's  life.  At  the  same  time  their 
festivities  would  be  subdued  by  the  memory  of  her  recent 
sorrow,  and  restricted  to  their  immediate  family  circle. 
But,  instead  of  obtrusive  kindness,  they  enveloped  her 
in  the  home  atmosphere,  and  made  her  one  of  them.  The 
manner  in  which  old  Mrs.  Clifford  kept  her  near  and 
retained  her  hand  was  a  benediction  in  itself. 

Leonard  was  soon  heard  stamping  the  snow  from  his 
boots  on  the  back  piazza,  and  in  a  few  moments  he  entered, 
shivering. 

"The  coldest  night  of  the  year,"  he  exclaimed.  "Ten 
below  zero,  and  it  will  probably  be  twelve  before  morning. 
It's  too  bad,  Amy,  that  you  have  had  such  a  cold  reception. " 

"The  thermometer  makes  a  good  foil  for  your  smile, "  she 
replied.  "Indeed,  I  think  the  mercury  rose  a  little  while 
you  were  looking  at  it. ' ' 

"Oh  no,"  he  said,  laughing,  "even  you  could  not  make 
it  rise  to-night.  Heigho,  Ned!  coming  to  kiss  good-night? 
I  say,  Ned,  tell  us  what  mamma  has  for  Amy's  stocking. 
What  a  good  joke  it  is,  to  be  sure  I  We  all  had  the  impres- 

31) 


82  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

sion  you  were  a  little  girl,  you  know,  and  selected  our  gifts 
accordingly.  Burt  actually  bought  you  a  doll.  Ha!  ha  I 
ha !  Maggie  had  planned  to  have  you  hang  up  your  stock 
ing  with  the  children,  and  such  a  lot  of  little  traps  and 
sweets  she  has  for  you!" 

The  boy,  to  whom  going  to  bed  at  the  usual  hour  was  a 
heavy  cross  on  this  momentous  evening,  promptly  availed 
himself  of  a  chance  for  delay  by  climbing  on  Amy's  lap, 
and  going  into  a  voluble  inventory  of  the  contents  of  a 
drawer  into  which  he  had  obtained  several  surreptitious 
peeps.  His  effort  to  tell  an  interminable  story  that  he  might 
sit  up  longer,  the  droll  havoc  he  made  with  his  English, 
and  the  naming  of  the  toys  that  were  destined  for  the  sup 
posed  child,  evoked  an  unforced  merriment  which  banished 
the  last  vestige  of  restraint. 

"Well,  I'm  glad  it  has  all  happened  so,"  said  Amy,  af 
ter  the  little  fellow  had  reluctantly  come  to  the  end  of  his 
facts  and  his  invention  also.  "You  make  me  feel  as  if  I 
had  known  you  for  years — almost,  indeed,  as  if  I  had  come 
to  you  as  a  little  girl,  and  had  grown  up  among  you.  Come, 
Ned,  it  shall  all  turn  out  just  as  you  expected.  I'll  go  with 
you  upstairs,  and  hang  my  stocking  beside  yours,  and 
mamma  shall  put  into  it  all  the  lovely  things  you  have 
told  me  about.  Santa  Claus  does  not  know  much  about 
my  coming  here,  nor  what  kind  of  a  girl  I  am,  so  your 
kind  mamma  meant  to  act  the  part  of  Santa  Claus  in  my 
behalf  this  year,  and  give  him  a  chance  to  get  acquainted 
with  me.  But  he  knows  all  about  you,  and  there's  no  tell 
ing  how  soon  he  may  come  to  fill  your  stocking.  You  know 
he  has  to  fill  the  stockings  of  all  the  little  boys  and  girls  in 
the  country,  and  that  will  take  a  long  time.  So  I  think  we 
had  better  go  at  once,  for  I  don't  believe  he  would  like  it  if 
he  came  and  found  you  up  and  awake." 

This  put  a  new  aspect  upon  going  to  bed  early,  and  hav 
ing  seen  his  short,  chubby  stocking  dangling  with  a  long, 
slender  one  of  Amy's  by  the  chimney-side,  Ned  closed  his 
eyes  with  ineffable  content  and  faith.  Amy  then  returned 


A    COUNTRY    FIRESIDE  83 

to  the  sitting-room,  whither  she  was  soon  followed  by  Mag 
gie,  and  after  some  further  light  and  laughing  talk  the  con 
versation  naturally  drifted  toward  those  subjects  in  which. 
the  family  was  practically  interested. 

"What  do  you  think,  father?"  Leonard  asked.  "Won't 
this  finish  the  peach  and  cherry  buds?  I've  always  heard 
that  ten  degrees  of  cold  below  zero  destroyed  the  fruit 
germs." 

"Not  always,"  replied  the  man  of  long  experience.  "It 
depends  much  upon  their  condition  when  winter  sets  in,  and 
whether,  previous  to  the  cold  snap,  there  have  been  pro 
longed  thaws.  The  new  growth  on  the  trees  ripened  thor 
oughly  last  fall,  and  the  frost  since  has  been  gradual  and 
steady.  I've  known  peach-buds  to  survive  fifteen  below 
zero;  but  there's  always  danger  in  weather  like  this.  We 
shall  know  what  the  prospects  are  after  the  buds  thaw 
out." 

"How  will  that  be  possible?"  Amy  asked,  in  surprise. 

"Now,  Webb,  is  your  chance  to  shine,"  cried  Burtis. 
"Hitherto,  Amy,  the  oracle  has  usually  been  dumb,  but 
you  may  become  a  priestess  who  will  evoke  untold  stores 
of  wisdom." 

Webb  flushed  slightly,  but  again  proved  that  his  brother's 
banter  had  little  influence. 

"If  you  are  willing  to  wait  a  few  days,"  he  said,  with 
a  smile,  "I  can  make  clear  to  you,  by  the  aid  of  a  micro 
scope,  what  father  means,  much  better  than  I  can  explain. 
I  can  then  show  you  the  fruit  germs  either  perfect  or  black 
ened  by  the  frost. ' ' 

"I'll  wait,  and  remind  you  of  your  promise,  too.  I  don't 
know  nearly  as  much  about  the  country  as  a  butterfly  or  a 
bird,  but  should  be  quite  as  unhappy  as  they  were  I  con 
demned  to  city  life.  So  you  must  not  laugh  at  me  if  I  ask 
no  end  of  questions,  and  try  to  put  my  finger  into  some  of 
your  horticultural  pies." 

His  pleased  look  contained  all  the  assurance  she  needed, 
and  he  resumed,  speaking  generally:  "The  true  places  for 


34  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

raising  peaches — indeed,  all  the  stone-fruits — successfully 
in  this  region  are  the  plateaus  and  slopes  of  the  mountains 
beyond  us.  At  their  height  the  mercury  never  falls  as  low 
as  it  does  with  us,  and  when  we  have  not  a  peach  or  cherry 
I  have  found  such  trees  as  existed  high  up  among  the  hills 
well  laden. ' ' 

"Look  here,  uncle  Webb,"  cried  Alf,  "you've  forgotten 
your  geography.  The  higher  you  go  up  the  colder  it  gets." 

The  young  man  patiently  explained  to  the  boy  that  the 
height  of  the  Highlands  is  not  sufficient  to  cause  any  ma 
terial  change  in  climate,  while  on  still  nights  the  coldest  air 
sinks  to  the  lowest  levels,  and  therefore  the  trees  in  the  val 
leys  and  at  the  base  of  the  mountains  suffer  the  most.  "But 
what  you  say,"  he  concluded,  "is  true  as  a  rule.  The  mer 
cury  does  range  lower  on  the  hills;  and  if  they  were  a  thou 
sand  or  fifteen  hundred  feet  higher  peaches  could  not  be 
grown  at  all." 

Amy  mentally  soliloquized:  "I  am  learning  not  only 
about  the  mercury,  but  also — what  Alf  has  no  doubt  al 
ready  found  out — that  Webb  is  the  one  to  go  to  if  one 
wishes  anything  explained.  What's  more,  he  wouldn't, 
in  giving  the  information,  overwhelm  one  with  a  sense  of 
deplorable  ignorance. ' ' 

In  accordance  with  his  practical  bent,  Webb  continued: 
"I  believe  that  a  great  deal  of  money  could  be  made  in  the 
Highlands  by  raising  peaches.  The  crop  would  be  almost 
certain,  and  the  large  late  varieties  are  those  which  bring 
the  extraordinary  prices.  What  is  more,  the  mountain  land 
would  probably  have  the  quality  of  virgin  soil.  You  re 
member,  father,  don't  you,  when  peaches  in  this  region  were 
scarcely  troubled  by  disease?" 

"Indeed  I  do.  There  was  a  time  when  they  would  live 
on  almost  like  apple-trees,  and  give  us  an  abundance  of 
great  luscious  fruit  year  after  year.  Even  with  the  help 
of  the  pigs  we  could  not  dispose  of  the  crops,  the  bulk  of 
which,  in  many  instances,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  went  into 
brandy.  What  was  that  you  were  reading  the  other  day 


A    COUNTRY  FIRESIDE  35 

about  peaches  in  Hawthorne's  description  of  the  Old 
Manse  ?' ' 

Webb  took  the  book  and  read:  "Peach-trees  which,  in 
a  good  year,  tormented  me  with  peaches  neither  to  be  eaten 
nor  kept,  nor,  without  labor  and  perplexity,  to  be  given 
away." 

"That  hits  it  exactly,"  resumed  the  old  gentleman, 
laughing,  "only  every  year  was  a  good  year  then,  and  we 
had  not  the  New  York  market  within  three  hours  of  us. 
Even  if  we  had,  a  large  modern  orchard  would  have  sup 
plied  it.  One  of  the  most  remarkable  of  the  changes  I've 
witnessed  in  my  time  is  the  enormous  consumption  of  fruit 
in  large  cities.  Why,  more  is  disposed  of  in  Newburgh 
than  used  to  go  to  New  York.  But  to  return  to  peaches; 
our  only  chance  for  a  long  time  has  been  to  plant  young 
trees  every  year  or  two,  and  we  scarcely  secured  a  crop 
more  than  once  in  three  years.  Even  then  the  yellows 
often  destroyed  the  trees  before  they  were  old  enough  to 
bear  much.  They  are  doing  far  better  of  late  along  the 
Hudson,  and  there  is  good  prospect  that  this  region  will 
become  the  greatest  peach-growing  locality  in  the  country." 

"I'm  sure  you  are  right,"  assented  Webb,  "and  I  think 
it  will  pay  us  to  plant  largely  in  the  spring.  I  don't  sup 
pose  you  ever  saw  a  peach-orchard  in  England,  Amy?" 

"I  don't  think  I  ever  did.  They  were  all  grown  in 
front  of  sunny  walls,  espalier,  as  papa  termed  it.  We  had 
some  in  our  garden." 

"Yes,"  resumed  Webb,  "the  climate  there  is  too  cool 
and  humid  for  even  the  wood  to  ripen.  Here,  on  the  con 
trary,  we  often  have  too  vivid  sunshine.  I  propose  that  we 
put  out  all  the?  north  slope  in  peaches." 

"Do  you  think  a  northern  exposure  best?"  Leonard 
asked. 

"I  certainly  do.  In  my  opinion  it  is  not  the  frost,  un^ 
less  it  be  very  severe,  that  plays  the  mischief  with  the 
buds,  but  alternate  freezing  and  thawing,  especially  after 
the  buds  have  started  in  spring.  On  a  northern  slope  the 


36  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

buds  usually  remain  dormant  until  the  danger  of  late  frosts 
is  over.  I  am  quite  sure,  too,  that  the  yellows  is  a  disease 
due  chiefly  to  careless  or  dishonest  propagation.  Pits  and 
buds  have  been  taken  from  infected  trees,  and  thus  the  evil 
has  been  spread  far  and  wide.  There  is  as  much  to  be 
gained  in  the  careful  and  long-continued  selection  of  fruits 
and  vegetables  as  in  the  judicious  breeding  of  stock." 

"Has  no  remedy  for  the  yellows  been  discovered?" 
Leonard  again  queried. 

"Only  the  axe  and  fire.  The  evil  should  be  extirpated 
as  fast  as  it  appears.  Prevention  is  far  better  than  any  at 
tempt  at  cure.  The  thing  to  do  is  to  obtain  healthier  trees, 
and  then  set  them  out  on  new  land.  That's  why  I  think 
the  north  slope  will  be  a  good  place,  for  peaches  have  never 
been  grown  there  in  my  memory." 

"Come,  Amy,"  said  Burt.  "Len  and  Webb  are  now 
fairly  astride  of  their  horticultural  hobbies.  Come  with 
me,  and  see  the  moon  shining  on  old  Storm  King." 

They  pushed  aside  the  heavy  crimson  curtains,  which 
added  a  sense  of  warmth  to  the  cheerful  room,  and  looked 
at  the  cold  white  world  without — a  ghost  of  a  world,  it 
seemed  to  Amy.  The  moon,  nearly  full,  had  risen  in  the 
gap  of  the  Highlands,  and  had  now  climbed  well  above  the 
mountains,  softening  and  etherealizing  them  until  every 
"-harsh,  rugged  outline  was  lost.  The  river  at  their  feet 
looked  pallid  and  ghostly  also.  When  not  enchained  by 
frost,  lights  twinkled  here  and  there  all  over  its  broad  sur 
face,  and  the  intervals  were  brief  when  the  throbbing  en 
gines  of  some  passing  steamer  were  not  heard.  Now  it  was 
like  the  face  of  the  dead  when  a  busy  life  is  over. 

"It's  all  very  beautiful,"  said  Amy,  shivering,  "but  too 
cold  and  still.  I  love  life,  and  this  reminds  one  of  death, 
the  thoughts  of  which,  with  all  that  it  involves,  have  op 
pressed  me  so  long  that  I  must  throw  off  the  burden.  I 
was  growing  morbid,  and  giving  way  to  a  deeper  and  deeper 
depression,  and  now  your  sunny  home  life  seems  just  the 
antidote  for  it  all." 


A    COUNTRY  FIRESIDE  37 

The  warm-hearted  fellow  was  touched,  for  there  were 
tears  in  the  young  girl's  eyes.  "You  have  come  to  the 
right  place,  Amy,"  he  said,  eagerly.  "You  cannot  love 
life  more  than  I,  and  I  promise  to  make  it  lively  for  you. 
I'm  just  the  physician  to  minister  to  the  mind  diseased  with 
melancholy.  Trust  me.  I  can  do  a  hundred-fold  more  for 
you  than  delving,  matter-of-fact  Webb.  So  come  to  me 
when  you  have  the  blues.  Let  us  make  an  alliance  offen 
sive  and  defensive  against  all  the  powers  of  dulness  and 
gloom." 

"I'll  do  my  best,"  she  replied,  smiling;  "but  there  will 
be  hours,  and  perhaps  days,  when  the  past  with  its  shad 
ows  will  come  back  too  vividly  for  me  to  escape  it." 

"I'll  banish  all  shadows,  never  fear.  I'll  make  the  pres 
ent  so  real  and  jolly  that  you  will  forget  the  past." 

"I  don't  wish  to  forget,  but  only  to  think  of  it  without 
the  dreary  foreboding  and  sinking  of  heart  that  oppressed 
me  till  I  came  here.  I  know  you  will  do  much  for  me,  but 
I  am  sure  I  shall  like  Webb  also." 

"Oh,  of  course  you  will.  He's  one  of  the  best  fellows  in 
the  world.  Don't  think  that  I  misunderstand  him  or  fail  to 
appreciate  his  worth  because  I  love  to  run  him  so.  Perhaps 
you'll  wake  him  up  and  get  him  out  of  his  ruts.  But  I  fore 
see  that  I'm  the  medicine  you  most  need.  Come  to  the  fire; 
you  are  shivering." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  glad  that  I've  found  such  a  home,"  she  said, 
with  a  grateful  glance,  as  she  emerged  from  the  curtains. 


386882 


38  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  IV 

GUNNING   BY   MOONLIGHT 

WEBB  saw  the  glance  from  eyes  on  which  were  still 
traces  of  tears;  he  also  saw  his  brother's  look  of 
sympathy;  and  with  the  kindly  purpose  of  creat 
ing  a  diversion  to  her  thoughts  he  started  up,  breaking  off 
his  discussion  with  Leonard,  and  left  the  room.  A  moment 
later  he  returned  from  the  hall  with  the  double-barrelled 
gun. 

"What  now,  Webb  ?"  cried  Burt,  on  the  qui  vive.  "You 
will  make  Amy  think  we  are  attacked  by  Indians." 

"If  you  are  not  afraid  of  the  cold,  get  your  gun,  and  I 
think  I  can  give  you  some  sport,  and,  for  a  wonder,  make 
you  useful  also,"  Webb  replied.  "While  you  were  career 
ing  this  afternoon  I  examined  the  young  trees  in  the  nur 
sery,  and  found  that  the  rabbits  were  doing  no  end  of  mis 
chief.  It  has  been  so  cold,  and  the  snow  is  so  deep,  that 
the  little  rascals  are  gathering  near  the  house.  They  have 
gnawed  nearly  all  the  bark  off  the  stems  of  some  of  the 
trees,  and  I  doubt  whether  I  can  save  them.  At  first  I 
was  puzzled  by  their  performances.  You  know,  father, 
that  short  nursery  row  grafted  with  our  seedling  apple,  the 
Highland  Beauty  ?  Well,  I  found  many  of  the  lower  twigs 
taken  off  with  a  sharp,  slanting  cut,  as  if  they  had  been  sev 
ered  with  a  knife,  and  I  imagined  that  a  thrifty  neighbor 
had  resolved  to  share  in  our  monopoly  of  the  new  variety, 
but  I  soon  discovered  that  the  cuttings  had  been  made  too 
much  at  random  to  confirm  the  impression  that  some  one  had 


GUNNING    BY   MOONLIGHT  39 

been  gathering  scions  for  grafting.  Tracks  on  the  snow, 
and  girdled  trees,  soon  made  it  evident  that  rabbits  were 
the  depredators.  One  of  the  little  pests  must  have  climbed 
into  a  bushy  tree  at  least  eighteen  inches  from  the  snow,  in 
order  to  reach  the  twigs  I  found  cut." 

"A  rabbit  up  a  tree!"  exclaimed  Leonard.  "Who  ever 
heard  of  such  a  thing  ?" 

"Well,  you  can  see  for  yourself  to-morrow,"  Webb  re 
sumed.  "Of  course  we  can't  afford  to  pasture  the  little  fel 
lows  on  our  young  trees,  and  so  must  feed  them  until  they 
can  be  shot  or  trapped.  The  latter  method  will  be  good 
fun  for  you,  Alf.  This  afternoon  I  placed  sweet  apples, 
cabbage-leaves,  and  turnips  around  the  edge  of  a  little 
thicket  near  the  trees;  and,  Burt,  you  know  there  is  a 
clump  of  evergreens  near,  from  whose  cover  I  think  we 
can  obtain  some  good  shots.  So  get  your  gun,  and  we'll 
start  even." 

At  the  prospect  of  sport  Burt  forgot  Amy  and  every 
thing  else,  and  dashed  off. 

"Oh,  papa,  can't  I  go  with  them?"  pleaded  Alf. 

"What  do  you  think,  Maggie?"  Leonard  asked  his  wife, 
who  now  entered. 

"Well,  boys  will  be  boys.  If  you  will  let  mamma  bundle 
you  up — " 

"Oh,  yes,  anything,  if  I  can  only  go!"  cried  Alf,  trem 
bling  with  excitement. 

"Sister  Amy,"  Webb  remarked,  a  little  diffidently,  "if 
you  care  to  see  the  fun,  you  can  get  a  good  view  from  the 
window  of  your  room.  I'll  load  my  gun  m  the  hall." 

"Can  I  see  you  load?"  Amy  asked,  catching  some  of 
Alf's  strong  interest.  "It's  all  so  novel  to  me." 

"Certainly.  I  think  you  will  soon  find  that  you  can  do 
pretty  much  as  you  please  in  your  new  home.  You  are  now 
among  republicans,  you  know,  and  we  are  scarcely  conscious 
of  any  government." 

"But  I  have  already  discovered  one  very  strong  law  in 
this  household, ' '  she  smilingly  asserted,  as  she  stood  beside 


40  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

him  near  the  hall- table,  on  which  he  had  placed  his  powder- 
flask  and  shot-pouch. 

"Ah,  what  is  that?"  he  asked,  pouring  the  powder  care 
fully  into  the  muzzles  of  the  gun. 

"The  law  of  kindness,  of  good-will.  Why,"  she  ex 
claimed,  "I  expected  to  be  weeks  in  getting  acquainted, 
but  here  you  are  all  calling  me  sister  Amy  as  if  it  were 
the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world.  It  seems  so  odd,"  she 
laughed,  "that  I  am  not  a  bit  afraid  of  you,  even  with  your 
gun,  and  yet  we  have  just  met,  as  it  were.  The  way  you 
and  your  brothers  say  'sister  Amy'  makes  the  relation  seem 
real.  I  can  scarcely  believe  that  I  am  the  same  girl  that 
stepped  down  at  the  station  this  evening,  nor  can  I  get  over 
my  pleased  wonder  at  the  transformation." 

"Amy,"  said  the  young  man,  earnestly,  "your  coming 
promises  so  much  to  us  all !  You  were  just  the  one  element 
lacking  in  our  home.  I  now  see  that  it  was  so.  I  already 
have  the  presentiment  that  you  will  do  more  for  us  than  we 
can  for  you. ' ' 

' '  I  ought  to  do  all  that  the  deepest  gratitude  could  prompt. 
You  have  never  known  what  it  is  to  be  desolate  one  hour,  and 
to  find  an  ideal  home  the  next." 

"I  wish  it  might  be  an  ideal  home  to  you;  but  don't  ex 
pect  too  much.  You  will  find  some  of  us  very  human." 

"Therefore  I  shall  feel  the  more  at  home.  Papa  always 
spoiled  me  by  letting  me  have  my  own  way,  and  I  shall 
often  tax  your  patience.  Do  you  know,  I  never  saw  a  gun 
loaded  before.  There  seems  to  be  so  much  going  on  here, 
and  I  have  lived  such  a  quiet  life  of  late.  How  will  you 
make  the  thing  go  off?" 

"These  little  precussion-caps  will  do  the  business.  It 
seems  to  me  that  I've  always  been  quiet,  and  perhaps  a 
trifle  heavy.  I  hope  you  will  think  it  your  mission  to  ren 
der  me  less  matter-of-fact.  I'm  ready  now,  and  here  comes 
Burt  with  his  breech-loader.  If  you  will  go  to  your  room 
now,  you  can  see  our  shots." 

A  moment  later  she  stood  with  Johnnie  at  her  window, 


GUNNING    BY   MOONLIGHT  41 

both  almost  holding  their  breath  in  expectation  as  they  saw 
the  young  men,  with  Alf  following,  steal  toward  a  clump  of 
evergreens  behind  the  house. 

"Quiet  and  steady  now,"  Webb  cautioned  his  eager 
brother;  "and,  Alf,  you,  step  in  my  tracks,  so  there  may 
be  no  noise."  Thus  they  made  their  way  among  the  pines, 
and  peered  cautiously  out.  "Hold  on,  Burt,"  Webb  whis 
pered,  as  the  former  was  bringing  his  gun  to  his  shoulder; 
"I  want  a  crack  at  them  as  well  as  yourself.  Let's  recon 
noitre.  Yes,  there  are  three  or  four  of  the  scamps.  Let  Alf 
see  them.  They  look  so  pretty  in  the  moonlight  that  I've 
scarcely  the  heart  to  disturb,  much  less  to  kill  them." 

"Oh,  stop  your  sentimental  nonsense!"  muttered  Burt, 
impatiently.  "It's  confoundedly  cold,  and  they  may  take 
fright  and  disappear." 

"Black  ingratitude!"  Webb  exclaimed.  "If  there  isn't 
one  in  the  apple  nursery  in  spite  of  all  my  provision  for 
them!  That  ends  my  compunctions.  I'll  take  him,  and 
you  that  big  fellow  munching  a  cabbage-leaf.  We'll  count 
three — now,  one,  two  — "  The  two  reports  rang  out  as  one, 
and  the  watchers  at  the  window  saw  the  flashes,  and  thrilled 
at  the  reverberating  echoes. 

"It's  almost  as  exciting  as  if  they  were  shooting  Indians, 
robbers,  or  giants,"  cried  Johnnie,  clapping  her  hands  and 
jumping  up  and  down. 

"Back,"  said  Webb  to  Alf,  who  was  about  to  rush  for 
ward  to  secure  the  game;  "we  may  get  another  shot." 

They  waited  a  few  moments  in  vain,  and  then  succumbed 
to  the  cold.  To  Alf  was  given  the  supreme  delight  of  pick 
ing  up  the  game  that  lay  on  the  snow,  making  with  their 
blood  the  one  bit  of  color  in  all  the  white  garden. 

"Poor  little  chaps!"  Webb  remarked,  as  he  joined  the 
family  gathered  arflund  Alf  and  the  rabbits  in  the  sitting- 
room.  "It's  a  pity  the  world  wasn't  wide  enough  for 
us  all." 

"What  has  come  over  you,  Webb?"  asked  Burt,  lifting 
his  eyebrows.  "Has  there  been  a  hidden  spring  of  senti- 


42  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

ment  in  your  nature  all  these  years,  which  has  just  struck 
the  surface?" 

It  was  evident  that  nearly  all  shared  in  Webb's  mild  re 
gret  that  such  a  sudden  period  had  been  put  to  life  at  once 
so  pretty,  innocent,  and  harmful.  Alf,  however,  was  con 
scious  of  only  pure  exultation.  Your  boy  is  usually  a  gen 
uine  savage,  governed  solely  by  the  primal  instinct  of  the 
chase  and  destruction  of  wild  animals.  He  stroked  the  fur, 
and  with  eyes  of  absorbed  curiosity  examined  the  mischiev 
ous  teeth,  the  long  ears,  the  queer  little  feet  that  never  get 
cold,  and  the  places  where  the  lead  had  entered  with  the 
sharp  deadly  shock  that  had  driven  out  into  the  chill  night 
the  nameless  something  which  had  been  the  little  creature's 
life.  Amy,  too,  stroked  the  fur  with  a  pity  on  her  face 
which  made  it  very  sweet  to  Webb,  while  tender-hearted 
Johnnie  was  exceedingly  remorseful,  and  wished  to  know 
whether  "the  bunnies,  if  put  by  the  fire,  would  not  come  to 
life  before  morning. ' '  Indeed,  there  was  a  general  chorus 
of  commiseration,  which  Burt  brought  to  a  prosaic  conclu 
sion  by  saying:  "Crocodile  tears,  every  one.  You'll  all 
enjoy  the  pot-pie  to-morrow  with  great  gusto.  By  the  way, 
I'll  prop  up  one  of  these  little  fellows  at  the  foot  of  Ned's 
crib,  and  in  the  morning  he'll  think  that  the  original  'Br'er 
Babbit'  has  hopped  out  of  Uncle  Eemus's  stories  to  make 
him  a  Christmas  visit. ' ' 


CHRISTMAS   EVE   AND   MORNING  43 


CHAPTER  V 

CHRISTMAS   EVE   AND   MORNING 

OLD  Mrs.  Clifford  now  created  a  diversion  by  asking: 
"How  about  our  plants  to-night,  Maggie?  Ought 
we  not  to  take  some  precautions?  Once  before 
when  it  was  as  cold  as  this  we  lost  some,  you  know." 

"Leonard,"  said  his  wife,  in  response  to  the  suggestion, 
"it  will  be  safer  for  you  to  put  a  tub  of  water  in  the  flower- 
room;  that  will  draw  the  frost  from  the  plants.  Mother  is 
the  queen  of  the  flowers  in  this  house,"  continued  Mrs. 
Leonard,  turning  to  Amy,  "and  I  think  she  will  be  inclined 
to  appoint  you  first  lady  in  attendance.  She  finds  me  cum 
bered  with  too  many  other  cares.  But  it  doesn't  matter. 
Mother  has  only  to  look  at  the  plants  to  make  them  grow 
and  bloom." 

"There  you  are  mistaken,"  replied  the  old  lady,  laugh 
ing.  "Flowers  are  like  babies.  I  never  made  much  of  a 
fuss  over  my  babies,  but  I  loved  them,  and  saw  that  they 
had  just  what  they  needed  at  the  right  time." 

"That  accounts  for  Webb's  exuberant  growth  and  spirit, 
and  the  ethereal  beauty  of  Len's  mature  blossoming,"  re 
marked  Burt. 

"You  are  a  plant  that  never  had  enough  pruning," 
retorted  his  portly  eldest  brother. 

"I  shall  be  glad  to  help  you,  if  you  will  teach  me  how," 
Amy  said  to  Mrs.  Clifford. 

"In  the  pruning  department  ?"  asked  Burt,  with  assumed 
dismay. 


44  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

"Possibly,"  was  the  reply,  with  an  arch  little  look  which 
delighted  the  young  fellow. 

"Come,  Maggie,"  said  Mrs.  Clifford,  "sing  a  Christmas 
carol  before  we  separate.  It  will  be  a  pleasant  way  of  bring 
ing  our  happy  evening  to  a  close." 

Mrs.  Leonard  went  to  the  piano.  "Amy,"  she  asked, 
"can't  you  help  me?" 

"I'll  do  my  best,  if  you  will  choose  something  I  know." 

A  selection  was  soon  made,  and  Amy  modestly  blended 
a  clear,  sweet  voice  with  the  air  that  Mrs.  Leonard  sang,  and 
as  the  sympathetic  tones  of  the  young  girl  swelled  the  rich 
volume  of  song  the  others  exchanged  looks  of  unaffected 
pleasure. 

"Oh,  Amy,  I  am  so  glad  you  can  sing!"  cried  Mrs.  Clif 
ford,  "for  we  have  always  made  so  much  of  music  in  our 
home." 

"Papa,"  she  replied,  with  moist  eyes,  "felt  as  you  do, 
and  he  had  me  sing  for  him  ever  since  I  can  remember." 

"Amy  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Leonard,  in  a  low  voice,  "sup 
pose  you  take  the  soprano  and  I  the  alto  in  the  next  stanza. ' ' 

They  were  all  delighted  with  the  result,  and  another  se 
lection  was  made,  in  which  Burt's  tenor  and  Webb's  bass 
came  in  with  fine  effect. 

"Amy,  what  a  godsend  you  are  to  us  all!"  said  Leonard, 
enthusiastically.  "I  am  one  of  the  great  army  of  poets  who 
can't  sing,  but  a  poet  nevertheless." 

"Yes,  indeed,  Len, "  added  Burt;  "it  needs  but  a  glance 
to  see  that  you  are  of  that  ethereal  mold  of  which  poets 
and  singers  are  made.  But  isn't  it  capital!  We  now  have 
all  the  four  parts. ' ' 

"Amy,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "do  you  know  an  old  Christ 
mas  hymn  that  your  father  and  I  loved  when  we  were  as 
young  as  you  are  ?"  and  he  named  it. 

"I  have  often  .sung  it  for  him,  and  he  usually  spoke  of 
you  when  I  did  so";  and  she  sang  sweet,  undying  words 
to  a  sweet,  quaint  air  in  a  voice  that  trembled  with  feeling. 

The  old   gentleman  wiped   his   eyes   again   and   again. 


CHRISTMAS    EVE   AND    MORNING  45 

"Ah!"  lie  said,  "how  that  takes  me  back  into  the  past! 
My  friend  and  I  knew  and  loved  that  air  and  hymn  over 
sixty  years  ago.  I  can  see  him  now  as  he  looked  then. 
God  bless  his  child,  and  now  my  child!"  he  added,  as  he 
drew  Amy  caressingly  toward  him.  "A  brief  evening  has 
made  you  one  of  us.  I  thank  God  that  he  has  sent  one 
whom  it  will  be  so  easy  for  us  all  to  love;  and  we  gratefully 
accept  you  as  a  Christmas  gift  from  Heaven." 

Then,  with  the  simplicity  of  an  ancient  patriarch,  he 
gathered  his  household  around  the  family  altar,  black 
Abram  and  two  maids  entering  at  his  summons,  and  tak 
ing  seats  with  an  air  of  deference  near  the  door.  Not  long 
afterward  the  old  house  stood  silent  and  dark  in  the  pallid 
landscape. 

Though  greatly  wearied,  Amy  was  kept  awake  during 
the  earlier  part  of  the  night  by  the  novelty  of  her  new  life 
and  relations,  and  she  was  awakened  in  the  late  dawn  of  the 
following  day  by  exclamations  of  delight  from  Mrs.  Leon 
ard's  room.  She  soon  remembered  that  it  was  Christmas 
morning.  The  children  evidently  had  found  their  stock 
ings,  for  she  heard  Johnnie  say,  "Oh,  mamma,  do  you  think 
Aunt  Amy  is  awake  ?  I  would  so  like  to  take  her  stocking 
to  her!" 

"Yes,"  cried  Amy,  "I'm  awake";  and  the  little  girl, 
draped  in  white,  soon  pushed  open  the  door,  holding  her 
own  and  Amy's  stockings  in  hands  that  trembled  with  de 
lightful  anticipation. 

"Jump  into  bed  with  me,"  said  Amy,  "and  we  will 
empty  our  stockings  together." 

The  years  rolled  back,  the  previous  months  of  sorrow 
and  suffering  were  forgotten;  the  day,  the  hour,  with  its 
associations,  the  eager  child  that  nestled  close  to  her,  made 
her  a  child  again.  She  yielded  wholly  to  her  mood;  she 
would  be  a  little  girl  once  more,  Johnnie's  companion  in 
feeling  and  delight;  and  the  morning  of  her  life  was  still 
so  new  that  the  impulses  of  that  enchanted  age  before  th« 
light  of  experience  has  denned  the  world  into  its  matter-of 


46  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

fact  proportions  came  back  unforced  and  unaffected.  Her 
voice  vied  with  Johnnie's  in  its  notes  of  excitement  and 
pleasure,  and  to  more  than  one  who  heard  her  it  seemed 
that  their  first  impression  was  correct,  that  a  little  child  had 
come  to  them,  and  that  the  tall,  graceful  maiden  was  a  myth. 

"Merry  Christmas,  Amy!"  cried  the  voice  of  Webb  on 
the  stairs. 

The  child  vanished  instantly,  and  a  blushing  girl  let  fall 
the  half-emptied  stocking.  Something  in  that  deep  voice 
proved  that  if  she  were  not  yet  a  woman,  she  had  drawn  so 
near  that  mystery  of  life  that  its  embarrassing  self -con 
sciousness  was  beginning  to  assert  itself.  "How  silly  he 
will  think  me !' '  was  her  mental  comment,  as  she  returned 
his  greeting  in  a  voice  that  was  rather  faint. 

The  "rising  bell"  now  resounded  through  the  house, 
and  she  sprang  up  with  the  purpose  of  making  amends  by 
a  manner  of  marked  dignity.  And  yet  there  remained  with 
her  a  sense  of  home  security,  of  a  great  and  new-found  hap 
piness,  which  the  cold  gray  morning  could  not  banish.  The 
air-tight  stove  glowed  with  heat  and  comfort,  and  she  after 
ward  learned  that  Mrs.  Leonard  had  replenished  the  fire  so 
noiselessly  as  not  to  awaken  her.  The  hearty  Christmas 
greetings  of  the  family  as  she  came  into  the  breakfast-room 
were  like  an  echo  of  the  angels'  song  of  "good- will."  The 
abounding  kindliness  and  genuine  pleasure  at  her  presence 
made  the  feeling  that  she  had  indeed  become  one  of  the 
household  seem  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  in 
stead  of  a  swiftly  wrought  miracle. 

Little  Ned  had  in  his  arms  one  of  the  rabbits  that  had 
been  shot  on  the  previous  evening,  and  to  him  it  was  more 
wonderful  than  all  his  toys.  "You  should  have  seen  him 
when  he  awoke,"  said  his  mother,  "and  saw  the  poor  little 
thing  propped  up  at  the  foot  of  his  crib.  His  eyes  grew 
wider  and  rounder,  and  at  last  he  breathed,  in  an  awed 
whisper,  'Br'er  Eabbit. '  But  he  soon  overcame  his  sur 
prise,  and  the  jargon  he  talked  to  it  made  our  sides  ache 
with  laughing." 


CHRISTMAS   EVE   AND   MORNING  47 

The  gifts  that  had  been  prepared  for  the  supposed  child 
were  taken  by  Amy  in  very  good  part,  but  with  the  tact  of 
a  well-bred  girl  who  would  not  spoil  a  jest,  rather  than  with 
the  undisguised  delight  of  Johnnie. 

"Only  Johnnie  and  I  have  seen  little  Amy,"  said  Leon 
ard — "I  at  the  depot  before  she  grew  up;  and  this  morning 
she  became  a  little  girl  again  as  a  Christmas  wonder  for  my 
little  girl.  Johnnie's  faith  and  fairy  lore  may  make  the 
transformation  possible  to  her  again,  but  I  fear  the  rest  of 
us  will  never  catch  another  glimpse  of  the  child  we  ex 
pected";  for  Amy's  grown-up  air  since  she  had  appeared 
in  the  breakfast-room  had  been  almost  a  surprise  to  him 
after  hearing  through  the  partition  her  pretty  nonsense  over 
her  stocking. 

"I  fear  you  are  right,"  said  Amy,  with  a  half -sigh; 
"and  yet  it  was  lovely  to  feel  just  like  Johnnie  once 
more;"  and  she  stole  a  shy  glance  at  Webb,  who  must 
have  heard  some  of  her  exclamations.  The  expression  of 
his  face  seemed  to  reassure  her,  and  without  further  mis 
giving  she  joined  in  a  laugh  at  one  of  Burt's  sallies. 


48  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 


CHAPTER   VI 
NATURE'S  HALF-KNOWN  SECRETS 

AMY'S  thoughts  naturally  reverted  before  very  long  to 
Mrs.  Clifford's  pets — the  flowers — and  she  asked  how 
they  had  endured  the  intense  cold  of  the  night. 

"They  have  had  a  narrow  escape,"  the  old  lady  replied. 
"If  Maggie  had  not  suggested  the  tub  of  water  last  night,  I 
fear  we  should  have  lost  the  greater  part  of  them." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Leonard,  "I  went  to  the  flower- room 
with  fear  and  trembling  this  morning,  and  when  I  found  the 
water  frozen  thick  I  was  in  despair. ' ' 

"It  was  the  water  freezing  that  saved  the  plants,"  Webb 
remarked,  quietly.  "I  put  water  in  the  root- cellar  before  I 
went  to  bed  last  night,  with  like  good  effect." 

"Well,  for  the  life  of  me,"  said  Maggie,  "I  can't  under 
stand  why  the  plants  .and  roots  don't  freeze  when  water 
does." 

"Come,  Burt,"  added  her  husband,  "you  are  a  college- 
bred  man.  You  explain  how  the  water  draws  the  frost  from 
the  plants." 

"Oh,  bother!"  Burt  answered,  flushing  slightly,  "I've 
forgotten.  Some  principle  of  latent  heat  involved,  I  be 
lieve.  Ask  Webb.  If  he  could  live  long  enough  he'd 
coax  from  Nature  all  her  secrets.  He's  the  worst  Paul  Pry 
into  her  affairs  that  I  ever  knew.  So  beware,  Amy,  unless 
you  are  more  secretive  than  Nature,  which  I  cannot  believe, 
since  you  seem  so  natural." 

"I'm  afraid  your  knowledge,  Burt,  resembles  latentheat," 
laughed  Leonard.  "Come,  see  what  you  can  do,  Webb." 


NATURE'S   HALF-KNOWN   SECRETS  49 

"Burt  is  right,"  said  Webb,  good-naturedly;  "the  prin 
ciple  of  latent  heat  explains  it  all,  and  he  could  refresh  his 
memory  in  a  few  moments.  The  water  does  not  draw  the 
frost  from  the  plants,  but  before  it  can  freeze  it  must  give 
out  one  hundred  and  forty  degrees  of  latent  heat.  The 
flower-room  and  root-cellar  were  therefore  so  much  warmer 
during  the  night  than  if  the  water  had  not  been  there.  The 
plants  that  were  nipped  probably  suffered  after  the  ice  be 
came  so  thick  as  to  check  in  a  great  measure  the  freezing 
process. ' ' 

"How  can  ice  stop  water  from  freezing?"  Alf  asked,  in 
much  astonishment. 

"By  keeping  it  warm,  on  the  same  principle  that  your 
bed-clothes  kept  you  warm  last  night.  Heat  passes  very 
slowly  through  ice — that  is,  it  is  a  poor  conductor.  With 
the  snow  it  is  the  winter  wrap  of  nature,  which  protects  all 
life  beneath  it.  When  our  ponds  and  rivers  are  once  frozen 
over,  the  latent  heat  in  the  water  beneath  can  escape  through 
the  ice  but  very  gradually,  and  every  particle  of  ice  that 
forms  gives  out  into  the  water  next  to  it  one  hundred  and 
forty  degrees  of  heat.  Were  it  not  for  these  facts  our 
ponds  would  soon  become  solid.  But  to  return  to  the  tub 
of  water  in  the  flower- room.  The  water,  when  placed  there, 
was  probably  warmer  than  the  air,  and  so  would  give  out  or 
radiate  its  heat  until  a  thermometer,  placed  either  in  the 
room  or  in  the  water,  would  mark  thirty- two  degrees  above 
zero.  At  this  point  the  water  would  begin  to  freeze,  but 
plants  or  vegetables  would  not.  They  would  require 
slightly  severer  cold  to  affect  them.  But  as  soon  as  the 
water  begins  to  freeze  it  also  gradually  gives  out  its  latent 
heat,  and  before  a  particle  of  ice  can  form  it  must  give  out 
one  hundred  and  forty  degrees  of  heat  to  the  air  and  water 
around  it.  Therefore  the  freezing  process  goes  on  slowly, 
and  both  the  air  and  water  are  kept  comparatively  warm. 
After  a  time,  however,  the  ice  becomes  so  thick  over  the 
surface  that  the  freezing  goes  on  more  and  more  slowly,  be 
cause  the  latent  heat  in  the  unfrozen  water  cannot  readily 

Vol.  1       aC 


50  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

escape  through  the  ice.  It  is  therefore  retained,  just  as  the 
latent  heat  in  the  water  of  an  ice-covered  pond  i^.  retained. " 

"It  follows,  then,"  said  Leonard,  "that  after  the  water 
beneath  the  ice  in  the  tub  began  to  freeze  slowly,  the  flower- 
room,  in  that  same  degree,  began  to  grow  cold." 

' '  Certainly,  for  only  as  the  water  freezes  can  it  give  out 
its  latent  heat.  The  thick  wooden  side  of  the  tub  is  a  poor 
conductor;  the  ice  that  has  formed  over  the  surface  is  even 
a  worse,  and  so  the  water  within  is  shielded  from  the  cold. 
It  therefore  almost  ceases  to  freeze,  and  so  becomes  of  no 
practical  use.  An  intelligent  understanding  of  these  prin 
ciples  is  of  great  practical  value.  If  I  could  have  waked 
up  and  placed  another  tub  of  water  in  the  room  at  two  or 
three  o'clock,  or  else  taken  all  of  the  ice  out  of  the  first 
one,  the  process  of  freezing  and  giving  out  heat  would  have 
gone  on  rapidly  again,  and  none  of  the  plants  would  have 
suffered.  I  have  heard  people  say  that  putting  water  in  a 
cellar  was  all  a  humbug — that  the  water  froze  and  the  vege 
tables  also.  Of  course  the  vegetables  froze  after  the  water 
congealed,  or  the  cellar  may  have  been  so  defective  that 
both  froze  at  the  same  time.  The  latent  heat  given  out  by 
a  small  amount  of  freezing  water  cannot  counteract  any 
great  severity  of  frost." 

"The  more  water  you  have,  then,  the  better?"  said  his 
father. 

"Yes,  for  then  there  is  more  to  freeze,  and  the  effect  is 
more  gradual  and  lasting." 

"I  feel  highly  honored,  Webb,"  said  his  mother,  smil 
ing,  "that  so  much  science  should  minister  to  me  and  my 
little  collection  of  plants.  I  now  see  that  the  why  and 
wherefore  comes  in  very  usefully.  But  please  tell  me  why 
you  put  the  plants  that  were  touched  with  frost  into  cold 
water,  and  why  you  will  not  let  the  sunlight  fall  on  them  ?" 

"For  the  same  reason  that  you  would  put  your  hand  in 
cold  water  if  frost-bitten.  Your  expression,  'touched  with 
frost,'  shows  that  there  is  hope  for  them.  If  they  were 
thoroughly  frozen  you  would  lose  them.  Your  plants,  you 


NATURE'S   HALF-KKOWN   SECRETS  51 

know,  are  composed  chiefly  of  water,  which,  fills  innumer 
able  little  cells  formed  by  the  vegetable  tissue.  If  the  water 
in  the  cells  is  chilled  beyond  a  certain  point,  if  it  becomes 
solid  ice,  it  expands  and  breaks  down  the  tissue  of  the 
cells,  and  the  structure  of  the  plant  is  destroyed.  If  the 
frost  can  be  gradually  withdrawn  so  as  to  leave  the  cells 
substantially  intact,  they  can  eventually  resume  their  func 
tions,  and  the  plant  receive  no  very  great  injury." 

"But  why  does  sudden  heat  or  sunlight  destroy  a  frosted 
plant?" 

"For  the  same  reason  that  it  breaks  down  the  vegetable 
tissue.  Heat  expands,  and  the  greater  the  heat  the  more 
rapid  the  expansion.  When  the  rays  of  the  sun,  which 
contain  a  great  deal  of  heat,  fall  on  any  part  of  a  frost-bit 
ten  plant,  that  part  begins  to  expand  so  rapidly  and  vio 
lently  that  the  cellular  tissues  are  ruptured,  and  life  is  de 
stroyed.  What  is  more,  the  heat  does  not  permeate  equally 
and  at  once  the  parts  affected  by  frost.  The  part  furthest 
away  from  the  heat  remains  contracted,  while  the  parts  re 
ceiving  it  expand  rapidly  and  unequally,  and  this  becomes 
another  cause  for  the  breaking  up  of  the  vegetable  tissue. 
The  same  principle  is  illustrated  when  we  turn  up  the  flame 
of  a  lamp  suddenly.  The  glass  next  to  the  flame  expands 
so  rapidly  that  the  other  parts  cannot  keep  pace,  and  so,  as 
the  result  of  unequal  expansion,  the  chimney  goes  to  pieces. 
With  this  principle  in  mind,  we  seek  to  withdraw  the  frost 
and  to  reapply  the  vivifying  heat  very  gradually  and  equally 
to  every  part,  so  that  the  vegetable  tissues  may  be  preserved 
unbroken.  This  is  best  done  by  immersing  them  in  cold 
water,  and  then  keeping  them  at  a  low  temperature  in  a 
shady  place.  As  the  various  parts  of  the  plant  resume 
their  functions,  the  light  and  heat  essential  to  its  life  and 
growth  can  gradually  be  increased." 

"It  seems  to  me  that  your  theory  is  at  fault,  Webb," 
said  Leonard.  "How  is  it  that  some  plants  are  able  to  en 
dure  such  violent  alternations  of  heat  and  cold?" 

"We  don't  have  to  go  far — at  least  I  do  not — before 


52  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

coming  to  the  limitations  of  knowledge.  What  it  is  in  the 
structure  of  a  plant  like  the  pansy,  for  instance,  which 
makes  it  so  much  more  hardy  than  others  that  seem  stronger 
and  more  vigorous,  even  the  microscope  does  not  reveal. 
Nature  has  plenty  of  secrets  that  she  has  not  yet  told.  But 
of  all  people  in  the  world  those  who  obtain  their  livelihood 
from  the  soil  should  seek  to  learn  the  wherefore  of  every 
thing,  for  such  knowledge  often  doubles  the  prospect  of 
success. ' ' 

"Now,  Amy,"  said  Burtis,  laughing,  "you  see  what  sort 
of  a  fellow  Webb  is.  You  cannot  even  sneeze  without  his 
considering  the  wherefore  back  to  the  remotest  cause." 

"Are  you  afraid  of  me,  Amy  ?"  asked  Webb. 

"No,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

Amy  spent  the  greater  part  of  the  day  in  unpacking  her 
trunks,  and  in  getting  settled  in  her  home-like  room.  It 
soon  began  to  take  on  a  familiar  air.  Hearts,  like  plants, 
strike  root  rapidly  when  the  conditions  are  favorable. 
Johnnie  was  her  delighted  assistant  much  of  the  time,  and 
this  Christmas- day  was  one  long  thrill  of  excitement  to  the 
child.  Her  wonder  grew  and  grew,  for  there  was  a  foreign 
air  about  many  of  Amy's  things,  and,  having  been  brought 
from  such  a  long  distance,  they  seemed  to  belong  to  another 
world.  The  severe  cold  continued,  and  only  the  irrepres 
sible  Burtis  ventured  out  to  any  extent.  When  Alf's  ex 
citement  over  his  presents  began  to  flag,  Webb  helped  him 
make  two  box-traps,  and  the  boy  concealed  them  in  the 
copse  where  the  rabbit-tracks  were  thickest.  Only  the  bit 
ing  frost  kept  him,  in  his  intense  eagerness,  from  remaining 
out  to  see  the  result.  Webb,  however,  taught  him  patience 
by  assuring  him  that  watched  traps  never  caught  game. 

Beyond  the  natural  home  festivities  the  day  passed 
quietly,  and  this  was  also  true  of  the  entire  holiday  season. 
Cheerfulness,  happiness  abounded,  and  there  was  an  unob 
trusive  effort  on  the  part  of  every  one  to  surround  the 
orphan  girl  with  a  genial,  sunny  atmosphere.  And  yet  she 
was  ever  made  to  feel  that  her  sorrow  was  remembered  and 


NATURE'S   HALF-KNOWN   SECRETS  53 

respected.  She  saw  that  Mr.  Clifford's  inind  was  often  busy 
with  the  memory  of  his  friend,  that  even  Burt  declined  in 
vitations  to  country  merrymakings  in  the  vicinity,  and  that 
she  was  saved  the  ordeal  of  meeting  gay  young  neighbors 
with  whom  the  Clifford  home  was  a  favorite  resort.  In 
brief,  they  had  received  her  as  a  daughter  of  the  house, 
and  in  many  delicate  ways  proved  that  they  regarded  her 
as  entitled  to  the  same  consideration  as  if  she  were  one. 
Meanwhile  she  was  shown  that  her  presence  cast  no  gloom 
over  the  family  life,  and  she  knew  and  they  knew  that  it 
would  be  her  father's  wish  that  she  should  share  in  all  the 
healing  gladness  of  that  life.  No  true  friend  who  has  passed 
on  to  the  unclouded  shore  would  wish  to  leave  clouds  and 
chilling  shadows  as  a  legacy,  and  they  all  felt  that  in  Amy's 
case  it  had  been  her  father's  desire  and  effort  to  place  her 
under  conditions  that  would  develop  her  young  life  happily 
and  therefore  healthfully.  There  is  the  widest  difference  in 
the  world  between  cheerfulness  and  mirthfulness  which 
arise  from  happy  home  life  and  peaceful  hearts,  and  the 
levity  that  is  at  once  unfeeling,  inconsiderate,  and  a  sure 
indication  of  a  coarse-fibred,  ill-bred  nature.  Amy  was 
made  to  feel  this,  and  she  found  little  indeed  which  jarred 
with  memories  that  were  only  sad,  not  bitter  or  essentially 
depressing.  Every  day  brought  new  assurance  that  her 
father's  wishes  and  hopes  in  her  behalf  had  been  fulfilled 
to  a  degree  that  must  have  added  to  his  heavenly  content, 
could  he  have  known  how  well  he  had  provided  for  her. 
And  so  the  busy  days  glided  on;  and  when  the  evening 
brought  the  household  together,  there  were  music,  reading 
aloud,  and  genial  family  talk,  which  usually  was  largely 
colored  by  their  rural  calling.  Therefore,  on  New- Year's 
morning  Amy  stood  as  upon  a  sunny  eminence,  and  saw 
her  path  leading  away  amid  scenes  that  promised  useful 
ness,  happiness,  and  content. 


54  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  VII 

NEIGHBORS    DROP    IN 

ONE  evening  early  in  the  year  three  neighbors  dropped 
in.  They  were  evidently  as  diverse  in  character  as 
in  appearance.  The  eldest  was  known  in  the  neigh 
borhood  as  Squire  Bartley,  having  long  been  a  justice  of  the 
peace.  He  was  a  large  landholder,  and  carried  on  his  farm 
in  the  old-fashioned  ways,  without  much  regard  to  system, 
order,  or  improvement.  He  had  a  big,  good-natured  red 
face,  a  stout,  burly  form,  and  a  corresponding  voice.  In 
marked  contrast  with  his  aspect  and  past  experience  was 
Mr.  Alvord,  who  was  thin  almost  to  emaciation,  and  upon 
whose  pallid  face  not  only  ill-health  but  deep  mental  suffer 
ing  had  left  their  unmistakable  traces.  He  was  a  new-comer 
into  the  vicinity,  and  little  was  known  of  his  past  history 
beyond  the  fact  that  he  had  exchanged  city  life  for  country 
pursuits  in  the  hope  of  gaining  strength  and  vigor.  He 
ought  to  have  been  in  the  full  prime  of  cheerful  manhood, 
but  his  sombre  face  and  dark,  gloomy  eyes  indicated  that 
something  had  occurred  in  the  past  which  so  deeply  shad 
owed  his  life  as  to  make  its  long  continuance  doubtful.  He 
had  not  reached  middle  age,  and  yet  old  Mr.  Clifford  ap 
peared  a  heartier  man  than  he.  While  he  had  little  knowl 
edge  of  rural  occupations,  he  entered  into  them  with  eager 
ness,  apparently  finding  them  an  antidote  for  sad  memories. 
He  had  little  to  say,  but  was  a  good  listener,  and  evidently 
found  at  the  Cliffords'  a  warmth  and  cheer  coming  not  from 
the  hearth  only.  Webb  and  Leonard  had  both  been  very 
kind  to  him  in  his  inexperience,  and  an  occasional  evening 


NEIGHBORS   DROP   IN  55 

at  their  fireside  was  the  only  social  tendency  that  he  had 
been  known  to  indulge.  Dr.  Marvin,  the  third  visitor,  might 
easily  compete  with  Burt  in  flow  of  spirits,  and  in  his  day 
had  been  quite  as  keen  a  sportsman.  But  he  was  unlike 
Burtis  in  this,  that  all  birds  were  game  to  him,  and  for  his 
purpose  were  always  in  season.  To  Emerson's  line, 

"Hast  thou  named  all  the  birds  without  a  gun  ?" 

he  could  not  reply  in  the  affirmative,  and  yet  to  kill  as  many 
as  possible  had  never  been  his  object.  From  earliest  child 
hood  he  had  developed  a  taste  for  ornithology,  and  the  study 
of  the  fauna  of  the  region  had  been  almost  his  sole  recrea 
tion  for  years.  He  too  was  a  frequent  visitor  at  the  Clif 
fords',  where  he  ever  found  ready  listeners  and  questioners. 

"I  don't  know  what  is  the  matter  with  my  poultry," 
Squire  Bartley  remarked,  after  the  weather,  politics,  and 
harmless  phases  of  local  gossip  had  been  discussed;  "they 
are  getting  as  poor  as  crows.  My  boys  say  that  they  are 
fed  as  well  as  usual.  What's  more,  I've  had  them  throw 
down  for  'em  a  warm  mixture  of  meal  and  potatoes  before 
they  go  to  roost,  but  we  don't  get  an  egg.  What  luck  are 
you  having,  Leonard?" 

"Well,  I  don't  know  that  I'm  having  much  luck  in  the 
matter,"  Leonard  replied,  with  his  humorous  smile;  "but 
I  can't  complain.  Until  this  very  cold  weather  set  in  we 
had  eggs  in  plenty,  and  still  have  a  fair  supply.  I'm  in 
clined  to  think  that  if  your  hens  are  the  right  kind,  and 
are  properly  cared  for,  they  can't  help  producing  eggs. 
That  has  usually  been  my  experience.  I  don't  believe 
much  in  luck,  but  there  are  a  few  simple  things  that  are 
essential  to  success  with  poultry  in  winter.  By  the  way, 
do  you  give  them  well  or  spring  water  to  drink?" 

"Well,  no,  I  don't  believe  we  do,  at  this  time  of  year. 
I've  so  arranged  it  that  the  drippings  from  the  eaves  of  the 
barn  fall  into  a  trough,  and  that  saves  trouble.  I  expect 
the  boys  are  careless,  too,  for  I've  seen  the  fowls  eating 
snow  and  ice. ' ' 


56  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"That  accounts  for  your  poultry  being  like  crows,  for, 
whatever  the  reason  may  be,  snow-water  will  soon  reduce 
chickens  to  mere  feathers  and  bones. ' ' 

"You  don't  say  so!"  cried  the  squire.  "Well,  I  never 
heard  that  before. ' ' 

"I  don't  think  your  system  of  feeding  is  the  correct  one, 
either,"  pursued  Leonard.  "You  give  your  hens  the  warm 
meal  to-morrow  evening,  as  usual,  and  then  about  midnight 
go  to  the  roosts  and  feel  of  their  crops.  I'll  warrant  you'll 
find  them  empty.  The  meal,  you  see,  digests  speedily,  and 
is  soon  all  gone.  Then  come  the  long  cold  hours  before 
morning,  and  the  poor  creatures  have  nothing  to  sustain 
them,  and  they  become  chilled  and  enfeebled.  It  takes 
some  time  for  the  grain  you  give  them  in  the  morning  to 
digest,  and  so  they  are  left  too  long  a  time  without  support. 
Give  them  the  grain  in  the  evening — corn  and  buckwheat 
and  barley  mixed — and  there  is  something  for  their  gizzards 
to  act  on  all  night  long.  The  birds  are  thus  sustained  and 
kept  warm  by  their  food.  Then  in  the  morning,  when  they 
naturally  feel  the  cold  the  most,  give  them  the  warm  food, 
mixing  a  little  pepper  with  it  during  such  weather  as  this. ' ' 

""Well,"  remarked  the  squire,  "I  guess  you're  right. 
Anyway,  I'll  try  your  plan.  One  is  apt  to  do  things  the 
same  way  year  after  year  without  much  thought  about  it." 

"Then,  again,"  resumed  Leonard,  "I  find  it  pays  to 
keep  poultry  warm,  clean,  and  well  sheltered.  In  very  cold 
weather  I  let  them  out  only  for  an  hour  or  two.  The  rest 
of  the  time  they  are  shut  up  in  the  chicken- house,  which 
has  an  abundance  of  light,  and  is  well  ventilated.  Beneath 
the  floor  of  the  chicken-house  is  a  cellar,  which  I  can  fill 
with  stable  manure,  and  graduate  the  heat  by  its  fermenta 
tion.  This  acts  like  a  steady  furnace.  There  is  room  in  the 
cellar  to  turn  the  manure  from  time  to  time  to  prevent  its 
becoming  fire-fanged,  so  that  there  is  no  loss  in  this  respect. 
Between  the  heat  from  beneath,  and  the  sun  streaming  in 
the  windows  on  the  south  side  of  the  house,  I  can  keep  my 
laying  hens  warm  even  in  zero  weather;  and  I  make  it  a 


NEIGHBORS   DROP  IN  57 

point  not  to  have  too  many.  Beyond  a  certain  number, 
the  more  you  have  the  worse  you're  off,  for  poultry 
won't  stand  crowding." 

"You  farmers,"  put  in  Dr.  Marvin,  "are  like  the  doc 
tors,  who  kill  or  cure  too  much  by  rule  and  precedent.  You 
get  into  certain  ways  or  ruts,  and  stick  to  them.  A  little 
thought  and  observation  would  often  greatly  modify  your 
course.  Now  in  regard  to  your  poultry,  you  should  re 
member  that  they  all  existed  once  as  nature  made  them — 
they  were  wild,  and  domestication  cannot  wholly  change 
their  character.  It  seems  to  me  that  the  way  to  learn  how 
to  manage  fowls  successfully  is  to  observe  their  habits  and 
modes  of  life  when  left  to  themselves.  In  summer,  when 
they  have  a  range,  we  find  them  eating  grass,  seeds,  insects, 
etc.  In  short,  they  are  omnivorous.  In  winter,  when  they 
can't  get  these  things,  they  are  often  fed  one  or  two  kinds 
of  grain  continuously.  Now,  from  their  very  nature,  they 
need  in  winter  all  the  kinds  of  food  that  they  instinctively 
select  when  foraging  for  themselves — fresh  vegetables,  meat, 
and  varieties  of  seeds  or  grain.  We  give  to  our  chickens 
all  the  refuse  from  the  kitchen — the  varied  food  we  eat 
ourselves,  with  the  exception  of  that  which  contains  a  large 
percentage  of  salt — and  they  thrive  and  lay  well.  Before 
they  are  two  years  old  we  decapitate  them.  Old  fowls,  with, 
rare  exceptions,  will  not  lay  in  winter." 

Sad- eyed  Mr.  Alvord  listened  as  if  there  were  more  con 
solation  and  cheer  in  this  talk  on  poultry  than  in  the  coun 
sel  of  sages.  The  "chicken  fever"  is  more  inevitable  in 
a  man's  life  than  the  chicken-pox,  and  sooner  or  later 
all  who  are  exposed  succumb  to  it.  Seeing  the  interest 
developing  in  his  neighbor's  face,  Leonard  said,  briskly: 

"Mr.  Alvord,  here's  an  investment  that  will  pay  you  to 
consider.  The  care  of  poultry  involves  light  and  intelligent 
labor,  and  therefore  is  adapted  to  those  who  cannot  well 
meet  the  rough  and  heavy  phases  of  outdoor  work.  The 
fowls  often  become  pets  to  their  keepers,  and  the  individual 
oddities  and  peculiarities  of  character  form  an  amusing 


58 

study  which  is  not  wanting  in  practical  advantages.  The 
majority  of  people  keep  ordinary  barn- door  fowls,  which 
are  the  result  of  many  breeds  or  strains.  The"  consequence 
is  almost  as  great  diversity  of  character  within  gallinaceous 
limits  as  exists  in  the  families  that  care  for  them.  For  in 
stance,  one  hen  is  a  good,  persistent  layer;  another  is  a 
patient,  brooding  mother;  a  third  is  fickle,  and  leaves  her 
nest  so  often  and  for  such  long  intervals  that  the  eggs  be 
come  chilled,  and  incubation  ceases.  Some  are  tame  and 
tractable,  others  as  wild  as  hawks,  and  others  still  are  not 
of  much  account  in  any  direction,  and  are  like  common 
place  women,  who  are  merely  good  to  count  when  the 
census  is  taken." 

"I  hope  you  make  no  reference  to  present  company," 
Maggie  remarked. 

Leonard  gave  his  wife  one  of  his  humorous  looks  as  he 
replied,  "I  never  could  admit  that  in  regard  to  you,  for  it 
would  prove  too  much  against  myself.  The  idea  of  my 
picking  out  a  commonplace  woman!" 

"Leonard  knows,  as  we  all  do,  that  he  would  be  like  a 
decapitated  chicken  himself  without  her,"  said  Mrs.  Clifford, 
with  her  low  laugh. 

Maggie  smiled.  This  was  re-assuring  from  the  mother 
of  the  eldest  and  favorite  son. 

"Well,"  remarked  Squire  Bartley,  sententiously,  "there 
are  old  housewives  in  the  neighborhood  that  have  more  luck 
with  poultry  than  any  of  you,  with  all  your  science. ' ' 

"Nonsense,"  replied  Dr.  Marvin.  "You  know  a  little 
about  law,  squire,  and  I  less  about  medicine,  perhaps,  and 
yet  any  good  mother  could  take  care  of  a  lot  of  children 
better  than  we  could.  There  is  old  Mrs.  Mulligan,  on  the 
creek  road.  She  raises  ducks,  geese,  and  chickens  innumer 
able,  and  yet  I  fail  to  see  much  luck  in  her  management; 
but  she  has  learned  from  experience  a  better  skill  than  the 
books  could  have  taught  her,  for  she  said  to  me  one  day, 
'I  jis  thries  to  foind  out  what  the  crathers  wants,  and  I  gives 
it  to  'em.'  She  knows  the  character  of  every  hen,  duck,  and 


NEIGHBORS   DROP  IN  59 

goose  she  has,  and  you  don't  catch  her  wasting  a  sitting  of 
eggs  under  a  fickle  biddy.  And  then  she  watches  over  her 
broods  as  Mrs.  Leonard  does  over  hers.  Don't  talk  about 
luck.  There  has  been  more  of  intelligent  care  than  luck  in 
bringing  up  this  boy  Alf.  I  believe  in  book-farming  as 
much  as  any  one,  but  a  successful  farmer  could  not  be  made 
by  books  only ;  nor  could  I  ever  learn  to  be  a  skilful  phy 
sician  from  books,  although  all  the  horses  on  your  place 
could  not  haul  the  medical  literature  extant.  I  must  adopt 
Mrs.  Mulligan's  tactics,  and  so  must  you.  We  must  find 
out  'what  the  crathers  want,'  be  they  plants,  stock,  or 
that  most  difficult  subject  of  all,  the  human  crather.  He 
succeeds  best  who  does  this  in  season,  and  not  out  of 
season. ' ' 

"You  are  right,  doctor,"  said  Leonard,  laughing.  "I 
agree  with  what  you  say  about  the  varied  diet  of  poultry  in 
general,  and  also  in  particular,  and  I  conform  my  practice 
to  your  views.  At  the  same  time  I  am  convinced  that  fail 
ure  and  partial  success  with  poultry  result  more  from  inade 
quate  shelter  and  lack  of  cleanliness  than  from  lack  of 
proper  food.  It  does  not  often  happen  in  the  country  that 
fowls  are  restricted  to  a  narrow  yard  or  run,  and  when  left 
to  themselves  they  pick  up,  even  in  winter,  much  and  varied 
food  in  and  about  the  barn.  But  how  rarely  is  proper  shel 
ter  provided !  It  is  almost  as  injurious  for  poultry  as  it 
would  be  for  us  to  be  crowded,  and  subjected  to  draughts, 
dampness,  and  cold.  They  may  survive,  but  they  can't 
thrive  and  be  profitable.  In  many  instances  they  are  not 
even  protected  from  storms,  and  it's  a  waste  of  grain  to  feed 
poultry  that  roost  under  a  dripping  roof." 

"Well,"  said  the  squire,  "I  guess  we've  been  rather 
slack.  I  must  send  my  boys  over  to  see  how  you  manage." 

' '  Amy, ' '  remarked  Burtis,  laughing,  '  'you  are  very  polite. 
You  are  trying  to  look  as  if  you  were  interested." 

' '  I  am  interested, ' '  said  the  young  girl,  positively.  ' '  One 
of  the  things  I  liked  best  in  English  people  was  their  keen 
interest  in  all  rural  pursuits.  Papa  did  not  care  much  for 


60  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

such  things;  but  now  that  I  am  a  country  girl  I  intend  to 
learn  all  I  can  about  country  life." 

Amy  had  not  intended  this  as  a  politic  speech,  but  it 
nevertheless  won  her  the  increased  good-will  of  all  present. 
Burtis  whispered, 

"Let  me  be  your  instructor." 

Something  like  a  smile  softened  Webb's  rugged  face,  but 
he  did  not  raise  his  eyes  from  the  fire. 

"If  her  words  are  not  the  result  of  a  passing  impulse," 
he  thought,  "sooner  or  later  she  will  come  to  me.  Nature, 
however,  tolerates  no  fitful,  half-hearted  scholars,  and  should 
she  prove  one,  she  will  be  contented  with  Burt's  out-of-door 
fun." 

"Miss  Amy,"  remarked  Dr.  Marvin,  vivaciously,  "if 
you  will  form  some  of  my  tastes  you  will  never  suffer  from 
ennui.  Don't  be  alarmed;  I  have  not  drugs  in  my  mind. 
Doctors  rarely  take  their  own  medicine.  You  don't  look 
very  strong,  and  have  come  back  to  your  native  land  with 
the  characteristics  of  a  delicate  American  girl,  rather  than 
the  vigor  of  an  English  one.  I  fear  you  slighted  British 
beef  and  mutton.  If  I  were  so  officious  as  to  prescribe  un 
asked,  I  should  put  you  on  birds  for  several  months,  morn 
ing,  noon,  and  evening.  Don't  you  be  officious  also,  Burt. 
It's  on  the  end  of  your  tongue  to  say  that  you  will  shoot 
them  for  her.  I  had  no  such  commonplace  meaning.  I 
meant  that  Miss  Amy  should  enjoy  the  birds  in  their  native 
haunts,  and  learn  to  distinguish  the  different  varieties  by 
their  notes,  plumage,  and  habits.  Such  recreation  would 
take  her  often  out-of-doors,  and  fill  every  spring  and  sum 
mer  day  with  zest. ' ' 

"But,  Dr.  Marvin,"  cried  Amy,  "is  not  the  study  of 
ornithology  rather  a  formidable  undertaking?" 

"Yes,"  was  the  prompt  reply.  "I  sometimes  feel  as  if 
I  could  devote  several  lifetimes  to  it.  But  is  it  such  a  formi 
dable  thing  to  begin  with  a  few  of  our  commonest  birds,  like 
the  robin  or  wren,  for  instance;  to  note  when  they  first  ar 
rive  from  their  southern  sojourn,  the  comical  scenes  of  court- 


NEIGHBORS   DROP  IN  61 

ship  and  rivalry  in  the  trees  about  the  door,  the  building  of 
their  homes,  and  their  housekeeping  ?  I  am  sorry  to  say 
that  I  find  some  of  my  patients  consumed  with  a  gossipy  in 
terest  in  their  neighbors'  affairs.  If  that  interest  were  trans 
ferred  to  the  families  residing  in  the  cherry  and  apple  trees, 
to  happy  little  homes  that  often  can  be  watched  even  from 
our  windows,  its  exercise  would  have  a  much  better  effect 
on  health  and  character.  When  a  taste  for  such  things 
is  once  formed,  it  is  astonishing  how  one  thing  leads  to  an 
other,  and  how  fast  knowledge  is  gained.  The  birds  will 
soon  begin  to  arrive,  Miss  Amy,  and  a  goodly  number  stay 
with  us  all  winter.  Pick  out  a  few  favorite  kinds,  and  form 
their  intimate  acquaintance.  I  would  suggest  that  you  learn 
to  identify  some  of  the  birds  that  nest  near  the  house,  and 
follow  their  fortunes  through  the  spring  and  as  late  in  the 
summer  as  their  stay  permits,  keeping  a  little  diary  of  your 
observations.  Alf  here  will  be  a  famous  ally.  You  will 
find  these  little  bird  histories,  as  they  develop  from  day  to 
day,  more  charming  than  a  serial  story. " 

It  were  hard  to  tell  who  was  the  more  captivated  by  the 
science  of  ornithology,  Amy  or  Alf,  when  this  simple  and 
agreeable  method  for  its  study  was  suggested.  Mr.  Alvord 
looked  wistfully  at  the  unalloyed  pleasure  of  the  boy  and 
the  young  girl  as  they  at  once  got  together  on  the  sofa  and 
discussed  the  project.  He  quietly  remarked  to  the  doctor, 
"I  also  shall  make  time  to  follow  your  suggestion,  and  shall 
look  forward  to  some  congenial  society  without  my  home  if 
not  within  it." 

"See  what  comes  from  being  enthusiastic  about  a  thing!" 
laughed  the  doctor.  "I  have  made  three  converts." 

Mrs.  Leonard  looked  furtively  and  pityingly  at  the  lonely 
Mr.  Alvord.  A  man  without  a  wife  to  take  care  of  him  was 
to  her  one  of  the  forlornest  of  objects,  and  with  secret  satis 
faction  she  thought,  "Leonard,  I  imagine,  would  find  the 
birds'  housekeeping  a  poor  substitute  for  mine." 


62  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  VIII 

EAGLES 

PEAKING  of  birds,  doctor,  there  are  some  big  fellows 
around  this  winter,"  said  Burtis.  "While  in  the 
mountains  with  the  wood  teams  some  days  since  I 
saw  a  gray  and  a  bald  eagle  sailing  around,  but  could  not 
get  a  shot  at  them.  As  soon  as  it  grows  milder  I  am  going 
up  to  the  cliffs  on  the  river  to  see  if  I  can  get  within  rifle 
range." 

"Oh,  come,  Burt,  I  thought  you  were  too  good  a  sports 
man  to  make  such  a  mistake,"  the  doctor  rejoined.  "A 
gray  eagle  is  merely  a  young  bald  eagle.  We  have  only 
two  species  of  the  genuine  eagle  in  this  country,  the  bald, 
or  American,  and  the  golden,  or  ring- tailed.  The  latter  is 
very  rare,  for  their  majesties  are  not  fond  of  society,  even 
of  their  own  kind,  and  two  nests  are  seldom  found  within 
thirty  miles  of  each  other.  The  bald  eagle  has  been  com 
mon  enough,  and  I  have  shot  many.  One  morning  long  ago 
I  shot  two,  and  had  quite  a  funny  experience  with  one  of 
them." 

"Pray  tell  us  about  it,"  said  Burtis,  glad  of  a  diversion 
from  his  ornithological  shortcomiugs. 

"Well,  one  February  morning  (I  could  not  have  been 
much  over  fourteen  at  the  time)  I  crossed  the  river  on  the 
ice,  and  took  the  train  for  Peekskill.  Having  transacted 
my  business  and  procured  a  good  supply  of  ammunition, 
I  started  homeward.  From  the  car  windows  I  saw  two 
eagles  circling  over  the  cliffs  of  the  lower  Highlands,  and 


EAGLES  63 

with  the  rashness  and  inexperience  of  a  boy  I  determined  to 
leave  the  train  while  it  was  under  full  headway.  I  passed 
through  to  the  rear  car,  descended  to  the  lowest  step,  and, 
without  realizing  my  danger,  watched  for  a  level  place  that 
promised  well  for  the  mad  project.  Such  a  spot  soon  oc 
curring,  I  grasped  the  iron  rail  tightly  with  my  right  hand, 
and  with  my  gun  in  my  left  I  stepped  off  into  the  snow, 
which  was  wet  and  slushy.  My  foot  bounded  up  and  back 
as  if  I  had  been  india-rubber,  and  maintaining  my  hold  I 
streamed  away  behind  the  car  in  an  almost  horizontal  posi 
tion.  About  once  in  every  thirty  feet  my  foot  struck  the 
ground,  bounded  up  and  back,  and  I  streamed  away  again 
as  if  I  were  towed  or  carried  through  the  air.  After  taking 
a  few  steps  of  this  character,  which  exceeded  any  attributed 
to  giants  in  fairy-lore,  I  saw  I  was  in  for  it,  and  the  next 
time  my  foot  struck  I  let  go,  and  splashed,  with  a  force  tbat 
I  even  now  ache  to  think  of,  into  the  wet  snow.  It's  a  won 
der  I  didn't  break  my  neck,  but  I  scrambled  up  not  very 
much  the  worse  for  my  tumble.  There  were  the  eagles;  my 
gun  was  all  right,  and  that  was  all  I  cared  for  at  the  time. 
I  soon  loaded,  using  the  heaviest  shot  I  had,  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  great  birds  sailed  over  my  head.  I  devoted  a 
barrel  to  each,  and  down  they  both  came,  fluttering,  whirl 
ing,  and  uttering  cries  that  Wilson  describes  as  something 
like  a  maniacal  laugh.  One  lodged  in  the  top  of  a  tall 
hemlock,  and  stuck;  the  other  came  flapping  and  crashing 
through  another  tree  until  stopped  by  the  lower  limbs, 
where  it  remained.  I  now  saw  that  their  distance  had  been 
so  great  that  I  had  merely  disabled  them,  and  I  began  re 
loading,  but  I  was  so  wild  from  excitement  and  exultation 
that  I  put  in  the  shot  first.  Of  course  my  caps  only 
snapped,  and  the  eagle  in  the  hemlock  top,  recovering  a 
brief  renewal  of  strength  after  the  shock  of  his  wound,  flew 
slowly  and  heavily  away,  and  fell  on  the  ice  near  the  centre 
of  the  river.  I  afterward  learned  that  it  was  carried  off  by 
some  people  on  an  ice-boat.  The  other  eagle,  whose  wing  I 
had  broken,  now  reached  the  ground,  and  I  ran  toward  it, 


04  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

determined  that  I  should  not  lose  both  of  my  trophies.     As 
1  approached  I  saw  that  I  had  an  ugly  customer  to  deal 
with,  for  the  bird,  finding  that  he  could  not  escape,  threw 
himself  on  his  back,  with  his  tail  doubled  under  him,  and 
was  prepared  to  strike  blows  with  talons  and  beak  that  would 
make  serious  wounds.     I  resolved  to  take  my  game  home 
alive,  and  after  a  little  thought  cut  a  crotched  stick,  with 
which  I  held  his  head  down  while  I  fastened  his  feet  to 
gether.     A  man  who  now  appeared  walking  down  the  track 
aided  me  in  securing  the  fierce  creature,  which  task  we  ac 
complished  by  tying  some  coarse  bagging  round  his  wings, 
body,  and  talons.     I  then  went  on  to  the  nearest  station  in 
order  to  take  the  train  homeward.     Of  course  the  eagle  at 
tracted  a  great  deal  of  attention  in  the  cars — more  than  he 
seemed  to  enjoy,  for  he  soon  grew  very  restless.     I  was 
approaching  my  destination,  and  three  or  four  people  were 
about  me,  talking,  pointing,  and  trying  to  touch  the  bird, 
when  he  made  a  sudden  dive.      The   bagging   round   his 
wings  and  feet  gave  way,  and  so  did  the  people  on  every 
side.    Down  through  the  aisle,  flapping  and  screaming,  went 
the  eagle;  and  the  ladies,  with  skirts  abridged,  stood  on  the 
seats  and  screamed  quite  as  discordantly.     Not  a  man  pres 
ent  would  help  me,  but,  mounting  on  their  seats,  they  vocif 
erated  advice.     The  conductor  appeared  on  the  scene,  and 
I  said  that  if  he  would  head  the  bird  off  I  would  catch  him. 
This  he  agreed  to  do,  but  he  no  sooner  saw  the  eagle  bear 
ing  down  on  him  with  his  savage  eye  and  beak  than  he,  as 
nimbly  at  the  best  of  them,  hopped  upon  a  seat,  and  stood 
beside  a  woman,  probably  for  her  protection.     A  minute  or 
two  later  the  train  stopped  at  my  station,  and  I  was  almost 
desperate.     Fortunately  I  was  in  the  last  car,  and  I  drove 
my  eagle  toward  the  rear  door,  from  which,  by  the  vig 
orous   use   of  my  feet,   I   induced   him   to  alight  on  the 
ground — the  first  passenger  of  the  kind,  I  am  sure,  that 
ever  left   the   cars   at  that  station.     After  several   minor 
adventures,   I   succeeded  in  getting  him  home.     I  hoped 
to  keep  him  alive,  but  he  would  not  eat;    so  I  stuffed 


EAGLES  65 

him  in  the  only  way  I  could,  and  he  is  now  one  of  my 
specimens. ' ' 

"Well,"  said  Burt,  laughing,  "that  exceeds  any  eagle 
adventure  that  I  have  heard  of  in  this  region.  In  the  car 
business  you  certainly  brought  his  majesty  down  to  the 
prose  of  common  life,  and  I  don't  wonder  the  regal  bird 
refused  to  eat  thereafter. ' ' 

"Cannot  eagles  be  tamed — made  gentle  and  friendly?" 
old  Mrs.  Clifford  asked.  "I  think  I  remember  hearing  that 
you  had  a  pet  eagle  years  ago." 

"Yes,  I  kept  one — a  female — six  months.  She  was  an 
unusually  large  specimen,  and  measured  about  eight  feet 
with  wings  extended.  The  females  of  all  birds  of  prey, 
you  know,  are  larger  than  the  males.  As  in  the  former 
case,  I  had  broken  one  of  her  wings,  and  she  also  threw 
herself  on  her  back  and  made  her  defence  in  the  most  sav 
age  manner.  Although  I  took  every  precaution  in  my 
power,  my  hands  were  bleeding  in  several  places  before 
I  reached  home,  and,  in  fact,  she  kept  them  in  a  rather 
dilapidated  condition  all  the  time  I  had  her.  I  placed  her 
in  a  large  empty  room  connected  with  the  barn,  and  found 
her  ready  enough  to  eat.  Indeed,  she  was  voracious,  and 
the  savage  manner  in  which  she  tore  and  swallowed  her  food 
was  not  a  pleasant  spectacle.  I  bought  several  hundred  live 
carp — a  cheap,  bony  fish — and  put  them  in  a  ditch  where  I 
could  take  them  with  a  net  as  I  wanted  them.  The  eagle 
would  spring  upon  a  fish,  take  one  of  her  long  hops  into  a 
corner,  and  tear  off  its  head  with  one  stroke  of  her  beak. 
While  I  was  curing  her  broken  wing  the  creature  tolerated 
me  after  a  fashion,  but  when  she  was  well  she  grew  more 
and  more  savage  and  dangerous.  Once  a  Dutchman,  who 
worked  for  us,  came  in  with  me,  and  the  way  the  eagle 
chased  that  man  around  the  room  and  out  of  the  door,  he 
swearing  meanwhile  in  high  German  and  in  a  high  key, 
was  a  sight  to  remember.  I  was  laughing  immoderately, 
when  the  bird  swooped  down  on  my  shoulder,  and  the  scars 
would  have  been  there  to-day  had  not  her  talons  been  dulled 


66  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

by  their  constant  attrition  with  the  boards  of  her  extempo 
rized  cage.  Covering  my  face  with  my  arm — for  she  could 
take  one's  eye  out  by  a  stroke  of  her  beak — I  also  retreated. 
She  then  dashed  against  the  window  with  such  force  that 
she  bent  the  wood- work  and  broke  every  pane  of  glass. 
She  seemed  so  wild  for  freedom  that  I  gave  it  to  her,  but 
the  foolish  creature,  instead  of  sailing  far  away,  lingered  on 
a  bluff  near  the  river,  and  soon  boys  and  men  were  out  after 
her  with  shot-guns.  I  determined  that  they  should  not 
mangle  her  to  no  purpose,  and  so,  with  the  aid  of  my  rifle, 
I  added  her  also  to  my  collection  of  specimens." 

"Have  you  ever  found  one  of  their  nests?"  Webb 
asked. 

"Yes.  They  are  rather  curious  affairs,  and  are  some 
times  five  feet  in  diameter  each  way,  and  quite  flat  at  the  top. 
They  use  for  the  substratum  of  the  domicile  quite  respect 
able  cord-wood  sticks,  thicker  than  one's  wrist.  The  mother- 
bird  must  be  laying  her  eggs  at  this  season,  cold  as  it  is. 
But  they  don't  mind  the  cold,  for  they  nest  above  the  Arc 
tic  Circle." 

"I  don't  see  how  it  is  possible  for  them  to  protect  their 
eggs  and  young  in  such  severe  weather,"  Mrs.  Clifford  re 
marked. 

"Nature  takes  care  of  her  own  in  her  own  way,"  replied 
the  doctor,  with  a  slight  shrug.  "One  of  the  birds  always 
remains  on  the  nest." 

"Well,"  said  Squire  Hartley,  who  had  listened  rather 
impatiently  to  so  much  talk  about  an  unprofitable  bird,  "I 
wish  my  hens  were  laying  now.  Seems  to  me  that  Nature 
does  better  by  eagles  and  crows  than  by  any  fowls  I  ever 
had.  Good-night,  friends." 

With  a  wistful  glance  at  Amy's  pure  young  face,  and  a 
sigh  so  low  that  only  pitiful  Mrs.  Leonard  heard  it,  Mr.  Al- 
vord  also  bowed  himself  out  in  his  quiet  way. 

"Doctor,"  said  Burtis,  resolutely,  "you  have  excited  my 
strongest  emulation,  and  I  shall  never  be  content  until  I 
have  brought  down  an  eagle  or  two." 


EAGLES  67 

"Dear  me!"  cried  the  doctor,  looking  at  his  watch,  "I 
should  think  that  you  would  have  had  enough  of  eagles, 
and  of  me  also,  by  this  time.  Eemember,  Miss  Amy,  I 
prescribe  birds,  but  don't  watch  a  bald- eagle's  nest  too 
closely.  We  are  not  ready  to  part  with  your  bright  eyes 
any  more  than  you  are." 


68  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  IX 

SLEIGHING   IN   THE   HIGHLANDS 

DURING  the  night  there  was  a  slight  fall  of  snow, 
and  Webb  explained  at  the  breakfast- table  that  its 
descent  had  done  more  to  warm  the  air  than  would 
have  been  accomplished  by  the  fall  of  an  equal  amount  of 
red-hot  sand.  But  more  potent  than  the  freezing  particles 
of  vapor  giving  off  their  latent  heat  were  the  soft  south  wind 
and  the  bright  sunshine,  which  seemingly  had  the  warmth 
of  May. 

"Come,  Amy,"  said  Burtis,  exultantly,  "this  is  no  day 
to  mope  in  the  house.  If  you  will  trust  yourself  to  me  and 
Thunder,  you  shall  skim  the  river  there  as  swiftly  as  you 
can  next  summer  on  the  fastest  steamer. ' ' 

Amy  was  too  English  to  be  afraid  of  a  horse,  and  with 
wraps  that  soon  proved  burdensome  in  the  increasing  warmth 
of  the  day,  she  and  Burt  dashed  down  the  slopes  and  hill 
that  led  to  the  river,  and  out  upon  the  wide,  white  plain. 
She  was  a  little  nervous  as  she  thought  of  the  fathoms  of 
cold,  dark  water  beneath  her;  but  when  she  saw  the  great 
loads  of  lumber  and  coal  that  were  passing  to  and  fro  on  the 
track  she  was  convinced  that  the  ice- bridge  was  safe,  and 
she  gave  herself  up  to  the  unalloyed  enjoyment  of  the  grand 
scenery.  First  they  crossed  Newburgh  Bay,  with  the  city 
rising  steeply  on  one  side,  and  the  Beacon  Mountains  fur 
ther  away  on  the  other.  The  snow  covered  the  ice  unbrok- 
enly,  except  as  tracks  crossed  here  and  there  to  various 
points.  Large  flocks  of  crows  were  feeding  on  these  ex- 


SLEIGHING    IN   THE  HIGHLANDS  69 

temporized  roadways,  and  they  looked  blacker  than  crows 
in  the  general  whiteness.  As  the  sleigh  glided  here  and 
there  it  was  hard  for  Amy  to  believe  that  they  were  in  the 
track  of  steamers  and  innumerable  sail- boats,  and  that  the 
distant  shores  did  not  slope  down  to  a  level  plain,  on  which 
the  grass  and  grain  would  wave  in  the  coming  June;  but 
when  Burt  turned  southward  and  drove  under  the  great 
beetling  mountains,  and  told  her  that  their  granite  feet  were 
over  a  hundred  yards  deep  in  the  water,  she  understood  the 
marvellous  engineering  of  the  frost-spirit  that  had  spanned 
the  river,  where  the  tides  are  so  swift,  and  had  so  strength 
ened  it  in  a  few  short  days  and  nights  that  it  could  bear 
enormous  burdens. 

Never  before  had  she  seen  such  grand  and  impressive 
scenery.  They  could  drive  within  a  few  feet  of  the  base  of 
Storm  King  and  Cro'  Nest;  and  the  great  precipices  and 
rocky  ledges,  from  which  often  hung  long,  glittering  icicles, 
seemed  tenfold  more  vast  than  when  seen  from  a  distance. 
The  furrowed  granite  cliffs,  surmounted  by  snow,  looked 
like  giant  faces,  lined  and  wrinkled  by  age  and  passion. 
Even  the  bright  sunshine  could  do  little  to  soften  their 
frowning  grandeur.  Amy's  face  became  more  and  more 
serious  as  the  majesty  of  the  landscape  impressed  her,  and 
she  grew  silent  under  Burtis's  light  talk.  At  last  she  said: 

"How  transient  and  insignificant  one  feels  among  these 
mountains !  They  could  not  have  looked  very  different  on 
the  morning  when  Adam  first  saw  Eve." 

"They  are  indeed  superb,"  replied  Burt,  "and  I  am  glad 
my  home — our  home — is  among  them;  and  yet  I  am  sure 
that  Adam  would  have  found  Eve  more  attractive  than  all 
the  mountains  in  the  world,  just  as  I  find  your  face,  flushed 
by  the  morning  air,  far  more  interesting  than  these  hills  that 
I  have  known  and  loved  so  long. ' ' 

"My  face  is  a  novelty,  brother  Burt,"  she  answered,  with 
deepening  color,  for  the  young  fellow's  frequent  glances  of 
admiration  were  slightly  embarrassing. 

"Strange  to  say,  it  is  growing  so  familiar  that  I  seem  to 


70  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

have  known  you  all  my  life, ' '  he  responded,  with  a  touch  of 
tenderness  in  his  tone. 

"That  is  because  I  am  your  sister,"  she  said,  quietly. 
"Both  the  word  and  the  relation  suggest  the  idea  that  we 
have  grown  up  together,"  and  then  she  changed  the  subject 
so  decidedly  that  even  impetuous  Burt  felt  that  he  must  be 
more  prudent  in  expressing  the  interest  which  daily  grew 
stronger.  As  they  were  skirting  Constitution  Island,  Arny 
exclaimed: 

' '  What  a  quaint  old  house !    Who  lives  there  all  alone  ?" 

"Some  one  that  you  know  about,  I  imagine.  Have  you 
ever  read  'The  Wide,  Wide  World'  ?" 

"What  girl  has  not?" 

"Well,  Miss  Warner,  the  author  of  the  book,  resides 
there.  The  place  has  a  historical  interest  also.  Do  you 
see  those  old  walls  ?  They  were  built  over  one  hundred 
years  ago.  At  the  beginning  of  the  Eevolution,  the  Conti 
nental  authorities  were  stupid  enough  to  spend  considerable 
money,  for  that  period,  in  the  building  of  a  fort  on  those 
rocks.  Any  one  might  have  seen  that  the  higher  ground 
opposite,  at  West  Point,  commanded  the  position." 

"No  matter  about  the  fort.     Tell  me  of  Miss  Warner." 

"Well,  she  and  her  sister  spend  their  summers  there,  and 
are  ever  busy  writing,  I  believe.  I1 11  row  you  down  in  the 
spring  after  they  return.  They  are  not  there  in  winter,  I 
am  told.  I  have  no  doubt  that  she  will  receive  you  kindly, 
and  tell  you  all  about  herself." 

"I  shall  not  fail  to  remind  you  of  your  promise,  and  I 
don't  believe  she  will  resent  a  very  brief  call  from  one  who 
longs  to  see  her  and  speak  with  her.  I  am  not  curious 
about  celebrities  in  general,  but  there  are  some  writers 
whose  words  have  touched  my  heart,  and  whom  I  would 
like  to  see  and  thank.  Where  are  you  going  now?" 

"I  am  going  to  show  you  West  Point  in  its  winter  as 
pect.  You  will  find  it  a  charming  place  to  visit  occasion 
ally,  only  you  must  not  go  so  often  as  to  catch  the  cadet 
fever." 


SLEIGHING    IN   THE   HIGHLANDS  71 

"Pray  what  is  that?" 

"It  is  an  acute  attack  of  admiration  for  very  young  men 
of  a  military  cut.  I  use  the  word  cut  advisedly,  for  these 
incipient  soldiers  look  for  all  the  world  as  if  carved  out  of 
wood.  They  gradually  get  over  their  stiffness,  however, 
and  as  officers  usually  have  a  fine  bearing,  as  you  may  see 
if  we  meet  any  of  them.  I  wish,  though,  that  you  could 
see  a  squad  of  'plebes'  drilling.  They  would  provoke  a 
grin  on  the  face  of  old  Melancholy  himself. ' ' 

"Where  is  the  danger,  then,  of  acute  admiration?" 

"Well,  they  improve,  I  suppose,  and  are  said  to  be  quite 
irresistible  during  the  latter  part  of  their  course.  You  need 
not  laugh.  If  you  knew  how  many  women — some  of  them, 
old  enough  to  be  the  boys'  mothers — had  succumbed,  you 
would  take  my  warning  to  heart." 

"What  nonsense!  You  are  a  little  jealous  of  them, 
Burt." 

"I  should  be  indeed  if  you  took  a  fancy  to  any  of 
them." 

"Well,  I  suppose  that  is  one  of  the  penalties  of  having 
brothers.  Are  all  these  houses  officers'  quarters?" 

They  had  now  left  the  ice,  and  were  climbing  the  hill  as 
he  replied: 

"No,  indeed.  This  is  Logtown — so  named,  I  suppose, 
because  in  the  earlier  days  of  the  post  log  huts  preceded 
these  small  wooden  houses.  They  are  chiefly  occupied  by 
enlisted  men  and  civilian  employes.  That  large  building 
is  the  band  barracks.  The  officers'  quarters,  with  a  few  ex 
ceptions,  are  just  above  the  brow  of  the  hill  west  and  south 
of  the  plain. ' ' 

In  a  few  moments  Amy  saw  the  wide  parade  and  drill 
ground,  now  covered  with  untrodden  snow. 

"What  a  strange  formation  of  land,  right  in  among  the 
mountains,"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  replied  her  companion.  "Nature  could  not  have 
designed  a  better  place  for  a  military  school.  It  is  very  ac 
cessible,  yet  easily  guarded,  and  the  latter  is  an  important 


72  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

point,  for  some  of  the  cadets  are  very  wild,  and  disposed 
toward  larks." 

"I  imagine  that  they  are  like  other  young  fellows.  Were 
you  a  saint  at  college  ?' ' 

"How  can  you  think  otherwise  ?  There,  just  opposite  to 
us,  out  on  the  plain,  the  evening  parade  takes  place  after 
the  spring  fairly  opens.  I  shall  bring  you  down  to  see  it, 
and  'tis  a  pretty  sight.  The  music  also  is  fine.  Oh,  I  shall 
be  magnanimous,  and  procure  you  some  introductions  if  you 
wish." 

"Thank  you.  That  will  be  the  best  policy.  These  sub 
stantial  buildings  on  our  right  are  the  officers'  quarters,  I 
suppose  ?' ' 

"Yes.  That  is  the  commandant's,  and  the  one  beyond 
it  is  the  superintendent's.  They  are  both  usually  officers  of 
high  rank,  who  have  made  an  honorable  record  for  them 
selves.  The  latter  has  entire  charge  of  the  post,  and  the 
position  is  a  very  responsible  one;  nor  is  it  by  any  means 
a  sinecure,  for  when  the  papers  have  nothing  else  to  find 
fault  with  they  pick  at  West  Point." 

"I  should  think  the  social  life  here  would  be  very 
pleasant." 

"It  is,  in  many  respects.  Army  ties  beget  a  sort  of 
comradeship  which  extends  to  the  officers'  wives.  Fre 
quent  removal  from  one  part  of  the  country  to  another  pre 
vents  anything  like  vegetating.  The  ladies,  I  am  told,  do 
not  become  overmuch  engrossed  in  housekeeping,  an.d  ac 
quire  something  of  a  soldier's  knack  of  doing  without  many 
things  which  would  naturally  occupy  their  time  and  thought 
if  they  looked  forward  to  a  settled  life.  Thus  they  have 
more  time  for  reading  and  society.  Those  that  I  have  met 
have  certainly  been  very  bright  and  companionable,  and 
many  who  in  girlhood  were  accustomed  to  city  luxury  can 
tell  some  strange  stories  of  their  frontier  life.  There  is  one 
army  custom  which  often  bears  pretty  hard.  Can  you  im 
agine  yourself  an  officer's  wife?" 

"I'll  try,  if  it  will  be  of  help  to  you." 


SLEIGHING    IN    THE   HIGHLANDS  73 

"Then  suppose  you  were  nicely  settled  in  one  of  those 
houses,  your  furniture  arranged,  carpets  down,  etc.  Some 
morning  you  learn  that  an  officer  outranking  your  husband 
has  been  ordered  here  on  duty.  His  first  step  may  be  to 
take  possession  of  your  house.  Quarters  are  assigned  in  ac 
cordance  with  rank,  and  you  would  be  compelled  to  gather 
up  your  household  gods  and  take  them  to  some  smaller 
dwelling.  Then  your  husband — how  droll  the  word  sounds  I 
• — could  compel  some  other  officer,  whom  he  outranked,  to 
move.  It  would  seem  that  the  thing  might  go  on  indefi 
nitely,  and  the  coming  of  a  new  officer  produce  a  regular 
1st  of  May  state  of  affairs." 

«/ 

"I  perceive  that  you  are  slyly  providing  an  antidote 
against  the  cadet  fever.  What  large  building  is  this?" 

"The  cadet  barracks.  There  are  over  two  hundred 
young  fellows  in  the  building.  They  have  to  study,  I  can 
tell  you,  nor  can  they  slip  through  here  as  some  of  us  did 
at  college.  All  must  abide  the  remorseless  examinations, 
and  many  drop  out.  There  goes  a  squad  to  the  riding  halL 
Would  you  like  to  see  the  drill  and  sabre  practice?" 

Amy  assenting,  they  soon  reached  the  balcony  overlook 
ing  the  arena,  and  spent  an  amused  half- hour.  The  horses 
were  rather  gay,  and  some  were  vicious,  while  the  young 
girl's  eyes  seemed  to  have  an  inspiriting  effect  upon  the 
riders.  Altogether  the  scene  was  a  lively  one,  and  at  times 
exciting.  Burt  then  drove  southward  almost  to  Fort  Mont 
gomery,  and  returning  skirted  the  West  Point  plain  by  the 
river  road,  pointing  out  objects  of  interest  at  almost  every 
turn,  and  especially  calling  the  attention  of  his  companion 
to  old  Fort  Putnam,  which  he  assured  her  should  be  the 
scene  of  a  family  picnic  on  some  bright  summer  day. 
Amy's  wonder  and  delight  scarcely  knew  bounds  when 
from  the  north  side  of  the  plain  she  saw  for  the  first  time 
the  wonderful  gorge  through  which  the  river  flows  south 
ward  from  Newburgh  Bay — Mount  Taurus  and  Breakneck 
on  one  side,  and  Cro'  Nest  and  Storm  King  on  the  other. 
With  a  deep  sigh  of  content,  she  said: 

Vol.  1       aD 


74  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

"I'm  grateful  that  my  home  is  in  such  a  region  as  this." 

"I'm  grateful  too,"  the  young  fellow  replied,  looking  at 
her  and  not  at  the  scenery. 

But  she  was  too  pre-occupied  to  give  him  much  atten 
tion,  and  in  less  than  half  an  hour  Thunder's  fleet  steps 
carried  them  through  what  seemed  a  realm  of  enchantment, 
and  they  were  at  home.  "Burt,"  she  said,  warmly,  "I  never 
had  such  a  drive  before.  I  have  enjoyed  every  moment. ' ' 

"Ditto,  ditto,"  he  cried,  merrily,  as  the  horse  dashed  off 
with  him  toward  the  barn. 


A   WINTER    THUNDER-STORM  75 


CHAPTER  X 

A  WINTER   THUNDER-STORM 

EVEN  before  the  return  of  Burtis  and  Amy  the  sun  had 
been  obscured  by  a  fast- thickening  haze,  and  while 
the  family  was  at  dinner  the  wind  began  to  moan 
and  sigh  around  the  house  in  a  way  that  foretold  a  storm. 

"I  fear  we  shall  lose  our  sleighing,"  old  Mr.  Clifford  re 
marked,  "for  all  the  indications  now  point  to  a  warm  rain." 

His  prediction  was  correct  Great  masses  of  vapor  soon 
came  pouring  over  Storm  King,  and  the  sky  grew  blacker 
every  moment.  The  wind  blew  in  strong,  fitful  gusts,  and 
yet  the  air  was  almost  sultry.  By  four  o'clock  the  rain 
began  to  dash  with  almost  the  violence  of  a  summer  shower 
against  the  windowpanes  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford's  sitting- 
room,  and  it  grew  so  dark  that  Amy  could  scarcely  see  to 
read  the  paper  to  the  old  gentleman.  Suddenly  she  was 
startled  by  a  flash,  and  she  looked  up  inquiringly  for  an 
explanation. 

"You  did  not  expect  to  see  a  thunder-storm  almost  in 
midwinter?"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  with  a  smile.  "This  unusual 
sultriness  is  producing  unseasonable  results." 

"Is  not  a  thunder-storm  at  this  season  very  rare?"  she 
asked. 

"Yes;  and  yet  some  of  the  sharpest  lightning  I  have 
ever  seen  has  occurred  in  winter." 

A  heavy  rumble  in  the  southwest  was  now  heard,  and 
the  interval  between  the  flash  and  the  report  indicated  that 
the  storm  centre  was  still  distant.  "I  would  advise  you  to 
go  up  to  Maggie's  room,"  resumed  Mr.  Clifford,  "for  from 


76  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

her  south  and  west  windows  you  may  witness  a  scene  that 
you  will  not  soon  forget.  You  are  not  afraid,  are  you  ?" 

"No,  not  unless  there  is  danger,"  she  replied,  hesi 
tatingly. 

"I  have  never  been  struck  by  lightning,"  the  old  man 
remarked,  with  a  smile,  "and  I  have  passed  through  many 
storms.  Come,  I'll  go  with  you.  I  never  tire  of  watching 
the  effects  down  among  the  mountains. ' ' 

They  found  Mrs.  Leonard  placidly  sewing,  with  Johnnie 
and  Ned  playing  about  the  room.  "You,  evidently,  are  not 
afraid,"  said  Amy. 

"Oh  no!"  she  replied.  "I  have  more  faith  in  the  pres 
ence  of  little  children  than  in  the  protection  of  lightning- 
rods.  Yes,  you  may  come  in,"  she  said  to  Webb,  who  stood 
at  the  door.  "I  suppose  you  think  my  sense  of  security  has 
a  very  unscientific  basis?" 

"There  are  certain  phases  of  credulity  that  I  would  not 
disturb  for  the  world,"  he  answered;  "and  who  knows  but 
you  are  right?  What's  more,  your  faith  is  infectious;  for, 
whatever  reason  might  tell  me,  I  should  still  feel  safer  in 
a  wild  storm  with  the  present  company  around  me.  Don't 
you  think  it  odd,  Amy,  that  what  we  may  term  natural 
feeling  gets  the  better  of  the  logic  of  the  head  ?  If  that  ap 
proaching  storm  should  pass  directly  over  us,  with  thickly 
flying  bolts,  would  you  not  feel  safer  here?" 

"Yes." 

Webb  laughed  in  his  low,  peculiar  way,  and  murmured, 
"What  children  an  accurate  scientist  would  call  us!" 

"In  respect  to  some  things  I  never  wish  to  grow  up," 
she  replied. 

"I  believe  I  can  echo  that  wish.  The  outlook  is  grow 
ing  fine,  isn't  it?" 

The  whole  sky,  which  in  the  morning  had  smiled  so 
brightly  in  undimmed  sunshine,  was  now  black  with  clouds. 
These  hung  so  low  that  the  house  seemed  the  centre  of  a 
narrow  and  almost  opaque  horizon.  The  room  soon  dark 
ened  with  the  gloom  of  twilight,  and  the  faces  of  the  in- 


A   WINTER    THUNDER-STORM  77 

mates  faded  into  shadowy  outlines.  The  mountains,  half 
wrapped  in(  vapor,  loomed  vast  and  indefinite  in  the  ob 
scurity.  Every  moment  the  storm  grew  nearer,  and  its 
centre  was  rna-rked  by  an  ominous  blackness  which  the 
momentary  flashes  left  all  the  more  intense.  The  young 
girl  grew  deeply  absorbed  in  the  scene,  and  to  Webb  the 
strong,  pure  profile  of  her  awed  face,  as  the  increasingly 
vivid  flashes  revealed  it,  was  far  more  attractive  than  the 
landscape  without,  which  was  passing  with  swift  alterna 
tions  from  ghastly  gloom  to  even  more  ghastly  pallor.  He 
looked  at  her;  the  rest  looked  at  the  storm,  the  children 
gathering  like  chickens  under  the  mother's  wing. 

At  last  there  came  a  flash  that  startled  them  all.  The 
mountains  leaped  out  of  the  darkness  like  great  sheeted 
spectres,  and  though  seen  but  a  second,  they  made  so  strong 
an  impression  that  they  seemed  to  have  left  their  solid  bases 
and  to  be  approaching  in  the  gloom.  Then  came  a  magnifi 
cent  peal  that  swept  across  the  whole  southern  arch  of  the 
sky.  The  reverberations  among  the  hills  were  deep,  long, 
and  grand,  and  the  fainter  echoes  had  not  died  away  before 
there  was  another  flash — another  thunderous  report,  which, 
though  less  loud  than  the  one  that  preceded  it,  maintained 
the  symphony  with  scarcely  diminished  grandeur. 

"This  is  our  Highland  music,  Amy,"  Webb  remarked, 
as  soon  as  he  could  be  heard.  "It  has  begun  early  this 
season,  but  you  will  hear  much  of  it  before  the  year  is 
out." 

"It  is  rather  too  sublime  for  my  taste, ' '  replied  the  young 
girl,  shrinking  closer  to  Mr.  Clifford's  side. 

' '  You  are  safe,  my  child, ' '  said  the  old  man,  encircling 
her  with  his  arm. 

"Let  me  also  reassure  you  in  my  prosaic  way,"  Webb 
continued.  "There,  do  you  not  observe  that  though  this 
last  flash  seemed  scarcely  less  vivid,  the  report  followed 
more  tardily,  indicating  that  the  storm  centre  is  already 
well  to  the  south  and  east  of  us  ?  The  next  explosion  will 
take  place  over  the  mountains  beyond  the  river.  You  may 


78  NATURE'S   SBRIAL   STORY 

now  watch  the  scene  in  security,  for  the  heavenly  artillery 
is  pointed  away  from  you. ' ' 

"Thank  you.  I  must  admit  that  your  prose  is  both  re 
assuring  and  inspiring.  How  one  appreciates  shelter  and 
home  on  such  a  night  as  this!  Hear  the  rain  splash  against 
the  window !  Every  moment  the  air  seems  filled  with  in 
numerable  gems  as  the  intense  light  pierces  them.  Think 
of  being  out  alone  on  the  river,  or  up  there  among  the  hills, 
while  Nature  is  in  such  an  awful  mood! — the  snow,  the 
slush,  everything  dripping,  the  rain  rushing  down  like  a 
cataract,  and  thunder-bolts  playing  over  one's  head.  In 
contrast,  look  around  this  home- like  room.  Dear  old  father's 
serene  face" — for  Mr.  Clifford  had  already  taught  her  to  call 
him  father — "makes  the  Divine  Fatherhood  seem  more  real. 
Innocent  little  Ned  here  does  indeed  seem  a  better  protec 
tion  than  a  lightning-rod,  while  Johnnie,  putting  her  doll  to 
sleep  in  the  corner,  is  almost  absolute  assurance  of  safety. 
Your  science  is  all  very  well,  Webb,  but  the  heart  demands 
something  as  well  as  the  head.  Oh,  I  wish  all  the  world 
had  such  shelter  as  I  have  to-night!" 

It  was  not  often  that  Amy  spoke  so  freely  and  impul 
sively.  Like  many  with  delicate  organizations,  she  was  ex 
cited  by  the  electrical  condition  of  the  air.  The  pallor  of 
awe  had  given  place  to  a  joyous  flush,  and  her  eyes  were 
brilliant. 

"Sister  Amy,"  said  Webb,  as  they  went  down  to  supper, 
"you  must  be  careful  of  yourself,  and  others  must  be  care 
ful  of  you,  for  you  have  not  much  vis  inertice.  Some  out 
side  influences  might  touch  you,  as  I  would  touch  your 
piano,  and  make  sad  discord. ' ' 

"Should  I  feel  very  guilty  because  I  have  not  more  of 
that  substantial  quality  which  can  only  find  adequate  ex 
pression  in  Latin?"  she  asked,  with  a  humorous  glance. 

"Ob,  no!  At  least  not  in  my  opinion.  I  much  prefer 
a  woman  in  whom  the  spirit  is  pre-eminent  over  the  clay. 
We  are  all  made  of  dust,  you  know,  and  we  men,  I  fear, 
often  smack  of  the  soil  too  strongly ;  therefore  we  are  best 


A   WINTER    THUNDER-STORM  79 

pleased  with  contrasts.  Moreover,  our  country  life  will 
brace  you  without  blunting  your  nature.  I  should  be  sorry 
for  you,  though,  if  you  were  friendless,  and  had  to  face  the 
world  alone. ' ' 

1 '  That  can  scarcely  happen  now, ' '  she  said,  with  a  grate 
ful  glance. 

During  the  early  part  of  the  evening  they  all  became 
absorbed  in  a  story,  which  Webb  read  aloud.  At  last  Mr. 
Clifford  rose,  drew  aside  the  curtains,  and  looked  out. 
"Come  here,  Amy,"  he  said.  "Look  where  the  storm  thun 
dered  a  few  hours  since !' ' 

The  sky  was  cloudless,  the  winds  were  hushed,  the  stars 
shining,  and  the  mountains  stood  out  gray  and  serene  in  the 
light  of  the  rising  moon. 

"See,  my  child,  the  storm  has  passed  utterly  away,  and 
everything  speaks  of  peace  and  rest.  In  my  long  life  I  have 
had  experiences  which  at  the  time  seemed  as  dark  and 
threatening  as  the  storm  that  awed  you  in  the  early  even 
ing,  but  they  passed  also,  and  a  quiet  like  that  which  reigns 
without  followed.  Put  the  lesson  away  in  your  heart,  my 
dear;  but  may  it  be  long  before  you  have  occasion  for  its 
use!  Good-night." 


80  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  XI 

NATURE   UNDER   GLASS 

THE  next  morning  Amy  asked  Mrs.  Clifford  to  initiate 
her  more  fully  into  the  mysteries  of  her  flowers, 
promising  under  her  direction  to  assume  their  care 
in  part.     The  old  lady  welcomed  her  assistance  cordially, 
and  said,  "You  could  not  take  your  lesson  on  a  more  aus 
picious  occasion,  for  Webb  has  promised  to  aid  me  in  giving 
my  pets  a  bath  to-day,  and  he  can  explain  many  things 
better  than  I  can." 

Webb  certainly  did  not  appear  averse  to  the  arrange 
ment,  and  all  three  were  soon  busy  in  the  flower- room. 
"You  see,"  resumed  Mrs.  Clifford,  "I  use  the  old-fashioned 
yellow  pots.  I  long  ago  gave  up  all  the  glazed,  ornamental 
affairs  with  which  novices  are  tempted,  learning  from  ex 
perience  that  they  are  a  delusion  and  a  snare.  Webb  has 
since  made  it  clear  to  me  that  the  roots  need  a  circulation 
of  air  and  a  free  exhalation  of  moisture  as  truly  as  the 
leaves,  and  that  since  glazed  pots  do  not  permit  this,  they 
should  never  be  employed.  After  all,  there  is  nothing  neater 
than  these  common  yellow  porous  pots.  I  always  select  the 
yellowest  ones,  for  they  are  the  most  porous.  Those  that 
are  red  are  hard-baked,  and  are  almost  as  bad  as  the  glazed 
abominations,  which  once  cost  me  some  of  my  choice 
favorites." 

"I  agree  with  you.  The  glazed  pots  are  too  artificial  to 
"be  associated  with  flowers.  They  suggest  veneer,  and  I 
don't  like  veneer,"  Amy  replied.  Then  she  asked  Webb: 
"Are  you  ready  for  a  fire  of  questions  ?  Any  one  with 


NATURE    UNDER    GLASS  81 

your  ability  should  be  able  to  talk  and  work  at  the  same 
time." 

"Yes;  and  I  did  not  require  that  little  diplomatic  pat  on 
the  back." 

"I'll  be  as  direct  and  severe  as  an  inquisitor,  then.  Why 
do  you  syringe  and  wash  the  foliage  of  the  plants?  Why 
will  not  simple  watering  of  the  earth  in  the  pots  answer?" 

"We  wash  the  foliage  in  order  that  the  plants  may 
breathe  and  digest  their  food." 

"How  lucid!"  said  Amy,  with  laughing  irony.  "Then," 
she  added,  "please  take  nothing  for  granted  except  my 
ignorance  in  these  matters.  I  don't  know  anything  about 
plants  except  in  the  most  general  way." 

"Give  me  time,  and  I  think  I  can  make  some  things 
clear.  A  plant  breathes  as  truly  as  you  do,  only  unlike 
yourself  it  has  indefinite  thousands  of  mouths.  There  is 
one  leaf  on  which  there  are  over  one  hundred  and  fifty 
thousand.  They  are  called  stomata,  or  breathing-pores,  and 
are  on  both  sides  of  the  leaf  in  most  plants,  but  usually  are 
in  far  greater  abundance  on  the  lower  side.  The  plant 
draws  its  food  from  the  air  and  soil — from  the  latter  in 
liquid  form — and  this  substance  must  be  concentrated  and 
assimilated.  These  little  pores  introduce  the  vital  atmos 
phere  through  the  air-passages  of  the  plant,  which  corre 
spond  in  a  certain  sense  to  the  throat  and  lungs  of  an 
animal.  You  would  be  sadly  off  if  you  couldn't  breathe; 
these  plants  would  fare  no  better.  Therefore  we  must  do 
artificially  what  the  rain  does  out-of-doors — wash  away  the 
accumulated  dust,  so  that  respiration  may  be  unimpeded. 
Moreover,  these  little  pores,  which  are  shaped  like  the  semi- 
elliptical  springs  of  a  carriage,  are  self-acting  valves.  A 
plant  exhales  a  great  deal  of  moisture  in  invisible  vapor. 
A  sunflower  has  been  known  to  give  off  three  pounds  of 
water  in  twenty-four  hours.  This  does  no  harm,  unless  the 
moisture  escapes  faster  than  it  rises  from  the  roots,  in  which 
case  the  plant  wilts,  and  may  even  die.  In  such  emergen 
cies  these  little  stomata,  or  mouths,  shut  up  partly  or  com- 


82  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

pletely,  and  so  do  much  to  check  the  exhalation.  When 
moisture  is  given  to  the  roots,  these  mouths  open  again, 
and  if  our  eyes  were  fine  enough  we  should  see  the  vapor 
passing  out." 

"I  never  appreciated  the  fact  before  that  plants  are  so 
thoroughly  alive." 

"Indeed,  they  are  alive,  and  therefore  they  need  the  in 
telligent  care  required  by  all  living  creatures  which  we  have 
removed  from  their  natural  conditions.  Nature  takes  care 
of  her  children  when  they  are  where  she  placed  them.  In 
a  case  like  this,  wherein  we  are  preserving  plants  that  need 
summer  warmth  through  a  winter  cold,  we  must  learn  to 
supply  her  place,  and  as  far  as  possible  adopt  her  methods. 
It  is  just  because  multitudes  do  not  understand  her  ways 
that  so  many  house  plants  are  in  a  half-dying  condition." 

"Now,  Amy,  I  will  teach  you  how  to  water  the  pots," 
Mrs.  Clifford  began.  "The  water,  you  see,  has  been  stand 
ing  in  the  flower-room  all  night,  so  as  to  raise  its  tempera 
ture.  That  drawn  directly  from  the  well  would  be  much 
too  cold,  and  even  as  it  is  I  shall  add  some  warm  water  to 
take 'the  chill  off.  The  roots  are  very  sensitive  to  a  sudden 
chill  from  too  cold  water.  No,  don't  pour  it  into  the  pots 
from  that  pitcher.  The  rain  does  not  fall  so,  and,  as  Webb 
says,  we  must  imitate  nature.  This  watering-pot  with  a  fine 
rose  will  enable  you  to  sprinkle  them  slowly,  and  the  soil 
can  absorb  the  moisture  naturally  and  equally.  Most  plants 
need  water  much  as  we  take  our  food,  regularly,  often,  and 
not  too  much  at  a  time.  Let  this  surface  soil  in  the  pots  be 
your  guide.  It  should  never  be  perfectly  dry,  and  still  less 
should  it  be  sodden  with  moisture;  nor  should  moisture 
ever  stand  in  the  saucers  under  the  pots,  unless  the  plants 
are  semi-aquatic,  like  this  calla-lily.  You  will  gradually 
learn  to  treat  each  plant  or  family  of  plants  according  to  its 
nature.  The  amount  of  water  which  that  calla  requires 
would  kill  this  heath,  and  the  quantity  needed  by  the  heath 
would  be  the  death  of  that  cactus  over  there." 

"Oh  dear!"  cried  Amy,  "if  I  were  left  alone  in  the  care 


NATURE    UNDER    GLASS  83 

of  your   flower-room,   I   should   out- Herod   Herod   in   the 
slaugther  of  the  innocents." 

"You  will  not  be  left  alone,  and  you  will  be  surprised  to 
find  how  quickly  the  pretty  mystery  of  life  and  growth  will 
begin  to  reveal  itself  to  you." 

As  the  days  passed,  Amy  became  more  and  more  ab 
sorbed  in  the  genial  family  life  of  the  Cliffords.  She  espe 
cially  attached  herself  to  the  old  people,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Clifford  were  fast  learning  that  their  kindness  to  the  or 
phan  was  destined  to  receive  an  exceeding  rich  reward. 
Her  young  eyes  supplemented  theirs,  which  were  fast  grow 
ing  dim;  and  even  platitudes  read  in  her  sweet  girlish  voice 
seemed  to  acquire  point  and  interest.  She  soon  learned  to 
glean  from  the  papers  and  periodicals  that  which  each  cared 
for,  and  to  skip  the  rest.  She  discovered  in  the  library  a 
well- written  book  on  travel  in  the  tropics,  and  soon  had 
them  absorbed  in  its  pages,  the  descriptions  being  much 
enhanced  in  interest  by  contrast  with  the  winter  landscape 
outside.  Mrs.  Clifford  had  several  volumes  on  the  culture 
of  flowers,  and  under  her  guidance  and  that  of  Webb  she 
began  to  prepare  for  the  practical  out-door  work  of  spring 
with  great  zest.  In  the  meantime  she  was  assiduous  in  the 
care  of  the  house  plants,  and  read  all  she  could  find  in  re 
gard  to  the  species  and  varieties  represented  in  the  little 
flower-room.  It  became  a  source  of  genuine  amusement  to 
start  with  a  familiar  house  plant  and  trace  out  all  its  botani 
cal  relatives,  with  their  exceedingly  varied  character  and 
yet  essential  consanguinity ;  and  she  drew  others,  even  Alf 
and  little  Johnnie,  into  this  unhackneyed  pursuit  of  knowl 
edge. 

"These  plant  families,"  she  said  one  day,  "are  as  curi 
ously  diverse  as  human  families.  Group  them  together  and 
you  can  see  plainly  that  they  belong  to  one  another,  and  yet 
they  differ  so  widely. ' ' 

"As  widely  as  "Webb  and  I,"  put  in  Burt. 

"Thanks  for  so  apt  an  illustration." 


84  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"Burt  is  what  you  would  call  a  rampant  grower,  run 
ning  more  to  wood  and  foliage  than  anything  else, ' '  Leonard 
remarked. 

"I  didn't  say  that,"  said  Amy.  "Moreover,  I  learned 
from  my  reading  that  many  of  the  strong- growing  plants  be 
come  in  maturity  the  most  productive  of  flowers  or  fruit. ' ' 

"How  young  I  must  seem  to  you!"  Burt  remarked. 

"Well,  don't  be  discouraged.  It's  a  fault  that  will  mend 
every  day, ' '  she  replied,  with  a  smile  that  was  so  arch  and 
genial  that  he  mentally  assured  himself  that  he  never  would 
be  disheartened  in  his  growing  purpose  to  make  Amy  more 
than  a  sister. 


A   MOUNTAINEERS   HOVEL  85 


CHAPTER 

A  MOUNTAINEER'S  HOVEL 

ONE  winter  noon  Leonard  returned  from  his  superin 
tendence  of  the  wood-cutting  in  the  mountains. 
At  the  dinner- table  he  remarked:  "I  have  heard 
to-day  that  the  Lumley  family  are  in  great  destitution,  as 
usual.  It  is  useless  to  help  them,  and  yet  one  cannot  sit 
down  to  a  dinner  like  this  in  comfort  while  even  the  Lum 
ley  s  are  hungry." 

"Hunger  is  their  one  good  trait, "  said  Webb.  "Under 
its  incentive  they  contribute  the  smallest  amount  possible  to 
the  world's  work." 

"I  shouldn't  mind,"  resumed  Leonard,  "if  Lumley  and 
his  wife  were  pinched  sharply.  Indeed,  it  would  give  me 
solid  satisfaction  had  I  the  power  to  make  those  people  work 
steadily  for  a  year,  although  they  would  regard  it  as  the 
worst  species  of  cruelty.  They  have  a  child,  however,  I  am 
told,  and  for  its  sake  I  must  go  and  see  after  them.  Come 
with  me,  Amy,  and  I  promise  that  you  will  be  quite  con 
tented  when  you  return  home." 

It  was  rather  late  in  the  afternoon  when  the  busy  Leon 
ard  appeared  at  the  door  in  his  strong  one-horse  sleigh  with 
its  movable  seat,  and  Amy  found  that  he  had  provided  an 
ample  store  of  vegetables,  flour,  etc.  She  started  upon  the 
expedition  with  geniune  zest,  to  which  every  mile  of  prog 
ress  added. 

The  clouded  sky  permitted  only  a  cold  gray  light,  in 
which  everything  stood  out  with  wonderful  distinctness. 
Even  the  dried  weeds  with  their  shrivelled  seed-vessels 
were  sharply  denned  against  the  snow.  The  beech  leaves 


86  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

which  still  clung  to  the  trees  were  bleached  and  white,  but 
the  foliage  on  the  lower  branches  of  the  oaks  was  almost 
black  against  the  hillside.  Not  a  breath  of  air  rustled  them. 
At  times  Leonard  would  stop  his  horse,  and  when  the  jingle 
of  the  sleigh-bells  ceased  the  silence  was  profound.  Every 
vestige  of  life  had  disappeared  in  the  still  woods,  or  was 
hidden  by  the  snow. 

"How  lonely  and  dreary  it  all  looks!"  said  Amy,  with  a 
sigh. 

"That  is  why  I  like  to  look  at  a  scene  like  this,"  Leon 
ard  replied.  "When  I  get  home  I  see  it  all  again — all  its 
cold  desolation — and  it  makes  Maggie's  room,  with  her  and 
the  children  around  me,  seem  like  heaven." 

But  oh,  the  contrast  to  Maggie's  room  that  Amy  looked 
upon  after  a  ride  over  a  wood- road  so  rough  that  even  the 
deep  snow  could  not  relieve  its  rugged  inequalities !  A  dim 
glow  of  firelight  shone  through  the  frosted  window-panes  of 
a  miserable  dwelling,  as  they  emerged  in  the  twilight  from 
the  narrow  track  in  the  growing  timber.  In  response  to  a 
rap  on  the  door,  a  gruff,  thick  voice  said,  "Come  in." 

Leonard,  with  a  heavy  basket  on  his  arm,  entered,  fol 
lowed  closely  by  Amy,  who,  in  her  surprise,  looked  with 
undisguised  wonder  at  the  scene  before  her.  Never  had 
she  even  imagined  such  a  home.  Indeed,  it  seemed  like 
profanation  of  the  word  to  call  the  bare,  uncleanly  room  by 
that  sweetest  of  English  words.  It  contained  not  a  home 
like  feature.  Her  eyes  were  not  resting  on  decent  poverty, 
but  upon  uncouth,  repulsive  want;  and  this  awful  impover 
ishment  was  not  seen  in  the  few  articles  of  cheap,  dilapi 
dated  furniture  so  clearly  as  in  the  dull,  sodden  faces  of  the 
man  and  woman  who  kennelled  there.  No  trace  of  man 
hood  or  womanhood  was  visible — and  no  animal  is  so  repul 
sive  as  a  man  or  woman  imbruted. 

The  man  rose  unsteadily  to  his  feet  and  said:  "Evenin', 
Mr.  Clifford.  Will  yer  take  a  cheer?" 

The  woman  had  not  the  grace  or  the  power  to  acknowl 
edge  their  presence,  but  after  staring  stolidly  for  a  moment  or 


A    MOUNTAINEERS    HOVEL  87 

two  at  her  visitors  through  her  dishevelled  hair,  turned  and 
cowered  over  the  hearth  again,  her  elfish  locks  falling  for 
ward  and  hiding  her  face. 

The  wretched  smoky  fire  they  maintained  was  the  final 
triumph  and  revelation  of  their  utter  shiftlessness.  With 
square  miles  of  woodland  all  about  them,  they  had  prepared 
no  billets  of  suitable  size.  The  man  had  merely  cut  down 
two  small  trees,  lopped  off  their  branches,  and  dragged  them 
into  the  room.  Their  butt-ends  were  placed  together  on  the 
hearth,  whence  the  logs  stretched  like  the  legs  of  a  compass 
to  the  two  further  corners  of  the  room.  Amy,  in  the  uncer 
tain  light,  had  nearly  stumbled  over  one  of  them.  As  the 
logs  burned  away  they  were  shoved  together  on  the  hearth 
from  time  to  time,  the  woman  mechanically  throwing  on 
dry  sticks  from  a  pile  near  her  when  the  greed  wood  ceased 
to  blaze.  Both  man  and  woman  were  partially  intoxicated, 
and  the  latter  was  so  stupefied  as  to  be  indifferent  to  the 
presence  of  strangers.  While  Leonard  was  seeking  to  ob 
tain  from  the  man  some  intelligible  account  of  their  condi 
tion,  and  bringing  in  his  gifts,  Amy  gazed  around,  with  her 
fair  young  face  full  of  horror  and  disgust.  Then  her  atten 
tion  was  arrested  by  a  feeble  cry  from  a  cradle  in  a  dusky 
corner  beyond  the  woman,  and  to  the  girl's  heart  it  was  in 
deed  a  cry  of  distress,  all  the  more  pathetic  because  of  the 
child's  helplessness,  and  unconsciousness  of  the  wretched 
life  to  which  it  seemed  inevitably  destined. 

She  stepped  to  the  cradle's  side,  and  saw  a  pallid  little 
creature,  puny  and  feeble  from  neglect.  Its  mother  paid  no 
attention  to  its  wailing,  and  when  Amy  asked  if  she  might 
take  it  up,  the  woman's  mumbled  reply  was  unintelligible. 

After  hesitating  a  moment  Amy  lifted  the  child,  and 
found  it  scarcely  more  than  a  little  skeleton.  Sitting  down 
on  the  only  chair  in  the  room,  which  the  man  had  vacated — 
the  woman  crouched  on  an  inverted  box — Amy  said,  ''Leon 
ard,  please  bring  me  the  milk  we  brought. ' ' 

After  it  had  been  warmed  a  little  the  child  drank  it  with 
avidity.  Leonard  stood  in  the  background  and  sadly  shook 


88  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

his  head  as  he  watched  the  scene,  the  fire-light  flickering  on 
Amy's  pure  profile  and  tear-dimmed  eye  as  she  watched  the 
starved  babe  taking  from  her  hand  the  food  that  the  brutish 
mother  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hearth  was  incapable  of 
giving  it. 

He  never  forgot  that  picture — the  girl's  face  beautiful 
with  a  divine  compassion,  the  mother's  large  sensual  fea 
tures  half  hidden  by  her  snaky  locks  as  she  leaned  stupidly 
over  the  fire,  the  dusky  flickering  shadows  that  filled  the 
room,  in  which  the  mountaineer's  head  loomed  like  that  of 
a  shaggy  beast.  Even  his  rude  nature  was  impressed,  and 
he  exclaimed, 

' '  Gad !  the  likes  of  that  was  never  seen  in  these  parts  afore !" 

"Oh,  sir,"  cried  Amy,  turning  to  him,  "can  you  not  see 
that  your  little  child  is  hungry  ?" 

"Well, the  woman,  she's  drunk,  and  s'pose  I  be 

too,  somewhat." 

"Come,  Lumley,  be  more  civil,"  said  Leonard.  "The 
young  lady  isn't  used  to  such  talk." 

"Oh,  it  all  seems  so  dreadful!"  exclaimed  Amy,  her 
tears  falling  faster. 

The  man  drew  a  step  or  two  nearer,  and  looked  at  her 
wonderingly;  then,  stretching  out  his  great  grimy  hand,  he 
said:  "I  s'pose  you  think  I  hain't  no  feelings,  miss,  but  I 
have.  I'll  take  keer  on  the  young  un,  and  I  won't  tech 
another  drop  to-night.  Thar's  my  hand  on  it." 

To  Leonard's  surprise,  Amy  took  the  hand,  as  she  said, 
"I  believe  you  will  keep  your  word." 

"That's  right,  Lumley, "  added  Leonard,  heartily.  "Now 
you  are  acting  like  a  man.  I've  brought  you  a  fair  lot  of 
things,  but  they  are  in  trade.  In  exchange  for  them  I  want 
the  jug  of  liquor  you  brought  up  from  the  village  to-day." 

The  man  hesitated,  and  looked  at  his  wife. 

"Come,  Lumley,  you've  begun  well.  Put  temptation 
out  of  the  way.  For  your  wife  and  baby's  sake,  as  well 
as  your  own,  give  me  the  jug.  You  mean  well,  but  you 
know  your  failing." 


A   MOUNTAINEER'S   HOVEL  89 

"Well,  Mr.  Clifford,"  said  the  man,  going  to  a  cupboard, 
"I  guess  it'll  be  safer.  But  you  don't  want  the  darned 
stuff,"  and  he  opened  the  door  and  dashed  the  vessel 
against  an  adjacent  bowlder. 

"That's  better  still.  Now  brace  up,  get  your  axe  and 
cut  some  wood  in  a  civilized  way.  We're  going  to  have  a 
cold  night.  You  can't  keep  up  a  fire  with  this  shiftless 
contrivance,"  indicating  with  his  foot  one  of  the  logs  lying 
along  the  floor.  "As  soon  as  you  get  things  straightened 
up  here  a  little  we'll  give  you  work.  The  young  lady  has 
found  out  that  you  have  the  making  of  a  man  in  you  yet. 
If  she'll  take  your  word  for  your  conduct  to-night,  she  also 
will  for  the  future." 

"Yes,"  added  Amy,  "if  you  will  try  to  do  better,  we 
will  all  try  to  help  you.  I  shall  come  to  see  the  baby  again. 
Oh,  Leonard,"  she  added,  as  she  placed  the  child  in  its  cra 
dle,  "can't  we  leave  one  of  the  blankets  from  the  sleigh? 
See,  the  baby  has  scarcely  any  covering." 

"But  you  may  be  cold." 

"No;  I  am  dressed  warmly.  Oh  I  see!  see!  the  little 
darling  is  smiling  up  at  me!  Leonard,  please  do.  I'd 
rather  be  cold." 

"Bless  your  good  heart,  miss!"  said  the  man,  more 
touched  than  ever.  "Never  had  any  sich  wisitors  afore." 

When  Amy  had  tucked  the  child  in  warm  he  followed 
her  and  Leonard  to  the  sleigh  and  said,  "Good-by,  miss; 
I'm  a-going  to  work  like  a  man,  and  there's  my  hand  on 
it  agin. ' ' 

Going  to  work  was  Lumley's  loftiest  idea  of  reformation, 
and  many  others  would  find  it  a  very  good  beginning.  As 
they  drove  away  they  heard  the  ring  of  his  axe,  and  it  had 
a  hopeful  sound. 

For  a  time  Leonard  was  closely  occupied  with  the  intri 
cacies  of  the  road,  and  when  at  last  he  turned  and  looked  at 
Amy,  she  was  crying. 

"There,  don't  take  it  so  to  heart,"  he  said,  soothingly. 

"Oh,  Leonard,  I  never  saw  anything  like  it  before.    That 


90  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

poor  little  baby's  smile  went  right  to  my  heart.  And  to 
think  of  its  awful  mother!" 

They  paused  on  an  eminence  and  looked  back  on  the 
dim  outline  of  the  hovel.  Then  Leonard  drew  her  close  to 
him  as  he  said,  "Don't  cry  any  more.  You  have  acted  like 
a  true  little  woman — just  as  Maggie  would  have  done — and 
good  may  come  of  it,  although  they'll  always  be  Lumleys. 
As  Webb  says,  it  would  require  several  generations  to  bring 
them  up.  Haven't  I  given  you  a  good  lesson  in  content 
ment?" 

"Yes;  but  I  did  not  need  one.  I'm  glad  I  went,  how 
ever,  but  feel  that  I  cannot  rest  until  there  is  a  real  change 
for  the  better. ' ' 

"  Well,  who  knows?    You  may  bring  it  about" 

The  supper-table  was  waiting  for  them  when  they  re 
turned.  The  gleam  of  the  crystal  and  silver,  the  ruddy 
glow  from  the  open  stove,  the  more  genial  light  of  every 
eye  that  turned  to  welcome  them,  formed  a  delightful  coun 
ter-picture  to  the  one  they  had  just  looked  upon,  and  Leon 
ard  beamed  with  immeasurable  satisfaction.  To  Amy  the 
contrast  was  almost  too  sharp,  and  she  could  not  dismiss 
from  her  thoughts  the  miserable  dwelling  in  the  mountains. 

Leonard's  buoyant,  genial  nature  had  been  impressed, 
but  not  depressed,  by  the  scene  he  had  witnessed.  Modes 
of  life  in  the  mountains  were  familiar  to  him,  and  with  the 
consciousness  of  having  done  a  kind  deed  from  which  fur 
ther  good  might  result,  he  was  in  a  mood  to  speak  freely 
of  the  Lumleys,  and  fhe  story  of  their  experience  was  soon 
drawn  from  him.  Impulsive,  warm-hearted  Burt  was  out 
spoken  in  his  admiration  of  Amy's  part  in  the  visit  of  char 
ity,  but  Webb's  intent  look  drew  her  eyes  to  him,  and  with 
a  strange  little  thrill  at  her  heart  she  saw  that  he  had  inter 
preted  her  motives  and  feelings. 

"I  will  take  you  there  again,  Amy,"  was  all  he  said,  but 
for  some  reason  she  dwelt  upon  the  tone  in  which  he  spoke 
more  than  upon  all  the  uttered  words  of  the  others. 

Later  in  the  evening  he  joined  her  in  the  sitting-room, 


A   MOUNTAINEERS   HOVEL  91 

which,  for  the  moment,  was  deserted  by  the  others,  and  she 
spoke  of  the  wintry  gloom  of  the  mountains,  and  how  Leon 
ard  was  fond  of  making  the  forbidding  aspect  a  foil  for 
Maggie's  room.  Webb  smiled  as  he  replied: 

"That  is  just  like  Len.  Maggie's  room  is  the  centre  of 
his  world,  and  he  sees  all  things  in  their  relation  to  it.  I 
also  was  out  this  afternoon,  and  I  took  my  gun,  although 
I  did  not  see  a  living  thing  to  fire  at.  But  the  'still,  cold 
woods,'  as  you  term  them,  were  filled  with  a  beauty  and 
suggestiveness  of  which  I  was  never  conscious  before.  I 
remembered  how  different  they  had  appeared  in  past  sum 
mers  and  autumns,  and  I  saw  how  ready  they  were  for  the 
marvellous  changes  that  will  take  place  in  a  few  short  weeks. 
The  hillsides  seemed  like  canvases  on  which  an  artist  had 
drawn  his  few  strong  outlines  which  foretold  the  beauty  to 
come  so  perfectly  that  the  imagination  supplied  it." 

"Why,  Webb,  I  did  not  know  you  had  so  much  im 
agination." 

"Nor  did  I,  and  I  am  glad  that  I  am  discovering  traces 
of  it.  I  have  always  loved  the  mountains,  because  so  used 
to  them — they  were  a  part  of  my  life  and  surroundings — but 
never  before  this  winter  have  I  realized  they  were  so  beau 
tiful.  When  I  found  that  you  were  going  up  among  the 
hills,  I  thought  I  would  go  also,  and  then  we  could  com 
pare  our  impressions." 

"It  was  all  too  dreary  for  me,"  said  the  young  girl,  in  a 
low  tone.  "It  reminded  me  of  the  time  when  my  old  life 
ceased,  and  th'is  new  life  had  not  begun.  There  were  weeks 
wherein  my  heart  was  oppressed  with  a  cold,  heavy  despond 
ency,  when  I  just  wished  to  be  quiet,  and  try  not  to  think 
at  all,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  nature  looked  to-day  just  I 
felt." 

"I  think  it  very  sad  that  you  have  learned  to  interpret 
nature  in  this  way  so  early  in  life.  And  yet  I  think  I  can 
understand  you  and  your  analogy." 

"1  think  you  can,  Webb,"  she  said,  simply. 


92  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 


CHAPTER  XIII 

ALMOST     A     TRAGEDY 

THE  quiet  sequence  of  daily  life  was  soon  interrupted 
by  circumstances  that  nearly  ended  in  a  tragedy. 
One  morning  Burt  saw  an  eagle  sailing  over  the 
mountains.  The  snow  had  been  greatly  wasted,  and  in 
most  places  was  so  strongly  incrusted  that  it  would  bear  a 
man's  weight.  Therefore  the  conditions  seemed  favorable 
for  the  eagle  hunt  which  he  had  promised  himself;  and 
having  told  his  father  that  he  would  look  after  the  wood 
teams  and  men  on  his  way,  he  took  his  rifle  and  started. 

The  morning  was  not  cold,  and  not  a  breath  of  air  dis 
turbed  the  sharp,  still  outlines  of  the  leafless  trees.  The 
sky  was  slightly  veiled  with  a  thin  scud  of  clouds.  As  the 
day  advanced  these  increased  in  density  and  darkened  in 
hue. 

Webb  remarked  at  dinner  that  the  atmosphere  over  the 
Beacon  Hills  in  the  northeast  was  growing  singularly  ob 
scure  and  dense  in  its  appearance,  and  that  he  believed  a 
heavy  storm  was  coming. 

"I  am  sorry  Burt  has  gone  to  the  mountains  to-day," 
said  Mrs.  Clifford,  anxiously. 

*'Oh,  don't  worry  about  Burt,"  was  Webb's  response; 
"there  is  no  more  danger  of  his  being  snowed  in  than  of 
a  fox's." 

Before  the  meal  was  over,  the  wind,  snow-laden,  was 
moaning  about  the  house.  With  every  hour  the  gale  in 
creased  in  intensity.  Early  in  the  afternoon  the  men  with 
the  two  teams  drove  to  the  barn.  Amy  could  just  see  their 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY  98 

white,  obscure  figures  through  the  blinding  snow,  Even 
old  Mr.  Clifford  went  out  to  question  them.  "Yes,  Mr. 
Burt  come  up  in  de  mawnin'  an'  stirred  us  all  up  right 
smart,  slashed  down  a  tree  hisself  to  show  a  new  gawky 
hand  dat's  cuttin'  by  de  cord  how  to  'arn  his  salt;  den  he 
put  out  wid  his  rafle  in  a  bee-line  toward  de  riber.  Dat's 
de  last  we  seed  ob  him;"  and  Abram  went  stolidly  on  to 
unhitch  and  care  for  his  horses. 

Mr.  Clifford  and  his  two  elder  sons  returned  to  the  house 
with  traces  of  anxiety  on  their  faces,  while  Mrs.  Clifford  was 
so  worried  that,  supported  by  Amy,  she  made  an  unusual 
effort,  and  met  them  at  the  door. 

"Don't  be  disturbed,  mother,"  said  Webb,  confidently. 
"Burt  and  I  have  often  been  caught  in  snowstorms,  but 
never  had  any  difficulty  in  finding  our  way.  Burt  will 
soon  appear,  or,  if  he  doesn't,  it  will  be  because  he  has 
stopped  to  recount  to  Dr.  Marvin  the  results  of  his  eagle 
hunt." 

Indeed,  they  all  tried  to  reassure  her,  but,  with  woman's 
quick  instinct  where  her  affections  are  concerned,  she  read 
what  was  passing  in  their  minds.  Her  husband  led  her 
back  to  her  couch,  where  she  lay  with  her  large  dark  eyes 
full  of  trouble,  while  her  lips  often  moved  in  prayer.  The 
thought  of  her  youngest  and  darling  son  far  off  and  alone 
among  those  cloud-capped  and  storm-beaten  mountains  was 
terrible  to  her. 

Another  hour  passed,  and  still  the  absent  youth  did  not 
return.  Leonard,  his  father,  and  Amy,  often  went  to  the 
hall  window  and  looked  out.  The  storm  so  enhanced  the 
early  gloom  of  the  winter  afternoon  that  the  outbuildings, 
although  so  near,  loomed  out  only  as  shadows.  The  wind 
was  growing  almost  fierce  in  its  violence.  Webb  had  so 
long  kept  up  his  pretence  of  reading  that  Amy  began  in 
her  thoughts  to  resent  his  seeming  indifference  as  cold 
blooded.  At  last  he  laid  down  his  book,  and  went  quietly 
away.  She  followed  him,  for  it  seemed  to  her  that  some 
thing  ought  to  be  done,  and  that  he  was  the  one  to  do  it. 


94:  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

She  found  him  in  an  upper  chamber,  standing  by  an  open 
window  that  faced  the  mountains.  Joining  him,  she  was 
appalled  by  the^  roar  of  the  wind  as  it  swept  down  from  the 
wooded  heights. 

"Oh,  Webb,"  she  exclaimed — he  started  at  her  words 
and  presence,  and  quickly  closed  the  window — "ought  not 
something  to  be  done  ?  The  bare  thought  that  Burt  is  lost 
in  this  awful  gloom  fills  me  with  horror.  The  sound  of  that 
wind  was  like  the  roar  of  the  ocean  in  a  storm  we  had.  How 
can  he  see  in  such  blinding  snow  ?  How  could  he  breast 
this  gale  if  he  were  weary  ?" 

He  was  silent  a  moment,  looking  with  contracted  brows 
at  the  gloomy  scene.  At  last  he  began,  as  if  reassuring 
himself  as  well  as  the  agitated  girl  at  his  side : 

"Burt,  you  must  remember,  has  been  brought  up  in  this 
region.  He  knows  the  mountains  well,  and — " 

"Oh,  Webb,  you  take  this  matter  too  coolly,"  inter 
rupted  Amy,  impulsively.  "Something  tells  me  that  Burt 
is  in  danger;"  and  in  her  deep  solicitude  she  put  her  hand 
on  his  arm.  She  noticed  that  it  trembled,  and  that  he  still 
bent  the  same  contracted  brow  toward  the  region  where  his 
brother  must  be  if  her  fears  were  true.  Then  he  seemed  to 
come  to  a  decision. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  quietly,  "I  take  it  coolly.  Perhaps  it's 
well  that  I  can.  You  may  be  right,  and  there  may  be  need 
of  prompt,  wise  action.  If  so,  a  man  will  need  the  full  con 
trol  of  all  his  wits.  I  will  not,  however,  give  up  my  hope 
— my  almost  belief — that  he  is  at  Dr.  Marvin's.  I  shall 
satisfy  myself  at  once.  Try  not  to  show  your  fears  to 
father  and  mother,  that's  a  brave  girl." 

He  was  speaking  hurriedly  now  as  they  were  descend 
ing  the  stairs.  He  found  his  father  in  the  hall,  much 
disturbed,  and  querying  with  his  eldest  son  as  to  the  ad 
visability  of  taking  some  steps  immediately.  Leonard, 
although  evidently  growing  anxious,  still  urged  that  Burt, 
with  his  knowledge  and  experience  as  a  sportsman,  would 
not  permit  himself  to  be  caught  in  such  a  storm. 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY  95 

"He  surely  must  be  at  the  house  of  Dr.  Marvin  or  some 
other  neighbor  on  the  mountain  road." 

"I  also  think  he  is  at  the  doctor's,  but  shall  see,"  Webb 
remarked,  quietly,  as  he  drew  on  his  overcoat. 

"I  don't  think  he's  there;  I  don't  think  he  is  at  any 
neighbor's  house,"  cried  Mrs.  Clifford,  who,  to  the  surprise 
of  all,  had  made  her  way  to  the  hall  unaided.  "Burt  is 
thoughtless  about  little  things,  but  he  would  not  leave  me 
in  suspense  on  such  a  night  as  this." 

"Mother,  I  promise  you  Burt  shall  soon  be  here  safe 
and  sound;"  and  Webb  in  his  shaggy  coat  and  furs  went 
hastily  out,  followed  by  Leonard.  A  few  moments  later 
the  dusky  outlines  of  a  man  and  a  galloping  horse  ap 
peared  to  Amy  for  a  moment,  and  then  vanished  toward 
the  road. 

It  was  some  time  before  Leonard  returned,  for  Webb 
had  said:  "If  Burt  is  not  at  the  doctor's,  we  must  go  and 
look  for  him.  Had  you  not  better  have  the  strongest  wood- 
sled  ready?  You  will  know  what  to  do." 

Having  admitted  the  possibility  of  danger,  Leonard 
acted  promptly.  With  Abram's  help  a  pair  of  stout 
horses  were  soon  attached  to  the  sled,  which  was  stored 
with  blankets,  shovels  to  clear  away  drifts,  etc. 

Webb  soon  came  galloping  back,  followed  a  few  mo 
ments  later  by  the  doctor,  but  there  were  no  tidings  of 
Burt. 

Amy  expected  that  Mrs.  Clifford  would  become  deeply 
agitated,  but  was  mistaken.  She  lay  on  her  couch  with 
closed  eyes,  but  her  lips  moved  almost  continuously.  She 
had  gone  to  Him  whose  throne  is  beyond  all  storms. 

Mr.  Clifford  was  with  difficulty  restrained  from  joining 
his  sons  in  the  search.  The  old  habit  of  resolute  action  re 
turned  upon  him,  but  Webb  settled  the  question  by  saying, 
in  a  tone  almost  stern  in  its  authority,  "Father,  you  must  re 
main  with  mother." 

Amy  had  no  further  reason  to  complain  that  Webb  took 
the  matter  too  coolly.  He  was  all  action,  but  his  move- 


NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

merits  "were  as  deft  as  they  were  quick.  In  the  basket  which 
Maggie  had  furnished  with  brandy  and  food  he  placed  the 
conch-shell  used  to  summon  Abram  to  his  meals.  Then, 
taking  down  a  double-barrelled  breech-loading  gun,  he 
filled  his  pocket  with  cartridges. 

"What  is  that  for?"  Amy  asked,  with  white  lips,  for, 
as  he  seemed  the  natural  leader,  she  hovered  near  him. 

"If  we  do  not  find  him  at  one  of  the  houses  well  up  on 
the  mountain,  as  I  hope  we  shall,  I  shall  fire  repeatedly  in 
our  search.  The  reports  would  be  heard  further  than  any 
other  sound,  and  he  might  answer  with  his  rifle." 

Leonard  now  entered  with  the  doctor,  who  said,  "All 
ready;  we  have  stored  the  sledge  with  abundant  material 
for  fires,  and  if  Burt  has  met  with  an  accident,  I  am  pre 
pared  to  do  all  that  can  be  done  under  the  circumstances." 

"All  ready,"  responded  Webb,  again  putting  on  his  coat 
and  fur  cap. 

Amy  sprang  to  his  side  and  tied  the  cap  securely  down 
with  her  scarf. 

"Forgive  me,"  she  whispered,  "for  saying  that  you  took 
Burt's  danger  coolly.  I  understand  you  better  now.  Oh, 
Webb,  be  careful !  Think  of  yourself  too.  I  now  see  that 
you  are  thinking  of  Burt  only." 

"Of  you  also,  little  sister,  and  I  shall  be  the  stronger  for 
such  thoughts.  Don't  give  way  to  fear.  We  shall  find 
Burt,  and  all  come  home  hungry  as  wolves.  Good- by." 

"May  the  blessing  of  Him  who  came  to  seek  and  save 
the  lost  go  with  you!"  said  the  aged  father,  tremulously. 

A  moment  later  they  dashed  away,  followed  by  Burt's 
hound  and  the  watch-dog,  and  the  darkness  and  storm  hid 
them  from  sight. 

Oh,  the  heavy  cross  of  watching  and  waiting!  Many 
claim  that  woman  is  not  the  equal  of  man  because  she  must 
watch  and  wait  in  so  many  of  the  dread  emergencies  of  life, 
forgetting  that  it  is  infinitely  easier  to  act,  to  face  the  wild 
est  storm  that  sweeps  the  sky  or  the  deadliest  hail  crashing 
from  cannons'  mouths,  than  to  sit  down  in  sickening  sus- 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY  97 

pense  waiting  for  the  blow  to  fall.  The  man's  duty  requires 
chiefly  the  courage  which  he  shares  with  the  greater  part  of 
the  brute  creation,  and  only  as  he  adds  woman,' s  patience, 
fortitude,  and  endurance  does  he  become  heroic.  Nothing 
but  his  faith  in  God  and  his  life-long  habit  of  submission  to 
his  will  kept  Mr.  Clifford  from  chafing  like  a  caged  lion  in 
his  enforced  inaction.  Mrs.  Clifford,  her  mother's  heart 
yearning  after  her  youngest  and  darling  boy  with  an  infin 
ite  tenderness,  alone  was  calm. 

Amy's  young  heart  was  oppressed  by  an  unspeakable 
dread.  It  was  partly  due  to  the  fear  and  foreboding  of  a 
child  to  whom  the  mountains  were  a  Siberia-like  wilderness 
in  their  awful  obscurity,  and  still  more  the  result  of  knowl 
edge  of  the  sorrow  that  death  involves.  The  bare  possibil 
ity  that  the  light-hearted,  ever- active  Burt,  who  sometimes 
perplexed  her  with  more  than  fraternal  devotion,  was  lying 
white  and  still  beneath  the  drifting  snow,  or  even  wander 
ing  helplessly  in  the  blinding  gale,  was  so  terrible  that  it 
blanched  her  cheek,  and  made  her  lips  tremble  when  she 
tried  to  speak.  She  felt  that  she  had  been  a  little  brusque 
to  him  at  times,  and  now  she  reproached  herself  in  remorse 
ful  compunction,  and  with  the  abandonment  of  a  child  to 
her  present  overwrought  condition,  felt  that  she  could  never 
refuse  him  anything  should  his  blue  eyes  turn  pleadingly  to 
her  again.  At  first  she  did  not  give  way,  but  was  sustained, 
like  Maggie,  by  the  bustle  of  preparation  for  the  return, 
and  in  answering  the  innumerable  questions  of  Johnnie  and 
Alf.  Webb's  assurance  to  his  mother  that  he  would  bring 
Burt  back  safe  and  sound  was  her  chief  hope.  From  the 
first  moment  of  greeting  he  had  inspired  her  with  a  confi 
dence  that  had  steadily  increased,  and  from  the  time  that 
he  had  admitted  the  possibility  of  this  awful  emergency  he 
had  acted  so  resolutely  and  wisely  as  to  convince  her  that 
all  that  man  could  do  would  be  done.  She  did  not  think  of 
explaining  to  herself  why  her  hope  centred  more  in  him  than 
in  all  the  others  engaged  in  the  search,  or  why  she  was  more 
solicitous  about  him  in  the  hardships  and  perils  that  the 

Vol.  1       aE 


NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

expedition  involved,  and  yet  "Webb  shared  her  thoughts 
almost  equally  with  Burt.  If  the  latter  were  reached,  Webb 
would  be  -the  rescuer,  but  her  sickening  dread  was  that  in 
the  black  night  and  howling  storm  he  could  not  be  found. 
As  the  rescuing  party  pushed  their  way  up  the  mountain 
with  difficulty  they  became  more  and  more  exposed  to  the 
northeast  gale,  and  felt  with  increasing  dread  how  great  was 
the  peril  to  which  Burt  must  be  exposed  had  he  not  found 
refuge  in  some  of  the  dwellings  nearer  to  the  scene  of  his 
sport.  The  roar  of  the  gale  up  the  rugged  defile  was  per 
fectly  terrific,  and  the  snow  caught  up  from  the  overhang 
ing  ledges  was  often  driven  into  their  faces  with  blinding 
force.  They  could  do  little  better  than  give  the  horses  their 
heads,  and  the  poor  brutes  floundered  slowly  through  the 
drifts.  The  snow  had  deepened  incredibly  fast,  and  the 
fierce  wind  piled  it  up  so  fantastically  in  every  sheltered 
place  that  they  were  often  in  danger  of  upsetting,  and  more 
than  once  had  to  spring  out  with  their  shovels.  At  last, 
after  an  hour  of  toil,  they  reached  the  first  summit,  but 
no  tidings  could  be  obtained  of  Burt  from  the  people  re 
siding  in  the  vicinity.  They  therefore  pushed  on  toward 
the  gloomy  wastes  beyond,  and  before  long  left  behind 
them  the  last  dwelling  and  the  last  chance  that  he  had 
found  shelter  before  night  set  in.  Two  stalwart  men  had 
joined  them  in  the  search,  however,  and  formed  a  welcome 
re-inforcement.  With  terrible  forebodings  they  pressed  for 
ward,  Webb  firing  his  breech-loader  rapidly,  and  the  rest 
making  what  noise  they  could,  but  the  gale  swept  away 
these  feeble  sounds,  and  merged  them  almost  instantly  in 
the  roar  of  the  tempest.  It  was  their  natural  belief  that 
in  attempting  to  reach  home  Burt  would  first  try  to  gain 
the  West  Point  road  that  crossed  the  mountains,  for  here 
would  be  a  pathway  that  the  snow  could  not  obliterate,  and 
also  his  best  chance  of  meeting  a  rescuing  party.  It  was 
therefore  their  purpose  to  push  on  until  the  southern  slope 
of  Cro'  Nest  was  reached,  but  they  became  so  chilled  and 
despondent  over  their  seemingly  impossible  task  that  they 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY  99 

stopped  on  an  eminence  near  a  rank  of  wood.  They  knew 
that  the  outlook  commanded  a  wide  view  to  the  south  and 
north,  and  that  if  Burt  were  cowering  somewhere  in  that 
region,  it  would  be  a  good  point  from  which  to  attract  his 
attention. 

"I  move  that  we  make  a  fire  here,"  said  Leonard. 
"Abram  is  half-frozen,  we  are  all  chilled  to  the  bone,  and 
the  horses  need  rest.  I  think,  too,  that  a  fire  can  be  seen 
further  than  any  sound  can  be  heard. ' ' 

The  instinct  of  self-preservation  caused  them  all  to  ac 
cede,  and,  moreover,  they  must  keep  up  themselves  in 
order  to  accomplish  anything.  They  soon  had  a  roaring 
blaze  under  the  partial  shield  of  a  rock,  while  at  the  same 
time  the  flames  rose  so  high  as  to  be  seen  on  both  sides  of 
the  ridge  as  far  as  the  storm  permitted.  The  horses  were 
sheltered  as  well  as  possible,  and  heavily  blanketed.  As 
the  men  thawed  out  their  benumbed  forms,  Webb  ex 
claimed,  "Great  God!  what  chance  has  Burt  in  such  a 
storm?  and  what  chance  have  we  of  finding  him?" 

The  others  shook  their  heads  gloomily,  but  answered 
nothing. 

"It  will  kill  mother,"  he  muttered. 

"There  is  no  use  in  disguising  the  truth,"  said  the  doc 
tor,  slowly.  "If  Burt's  alive,  he  must  have  a  fire.  Our 
best  chance  is  to  see  that.  But  how  can  one  see  anything 
through  this  swirl  of  snow,  that  is  almost  as  thick  in  the  air 
as  on  the  ground  ?" 

To  their  great  joy  the  storm  soon  began  to  abate,  and 
the  wind  to  blow  in  gusts.  They  clambered  to  the  highest 
point  near  them,  and  peered  eagerly  for  some  glimmer  of 
light;  but  only  a  dim,  wild  scene,  that  quickly  shaded 
off  into  utter  obscurity,  was  around  them.  The  snowflakes 
were  growing  larger,  however,  and  were  no  longer  swept 
with  a  cutting  slant  into  their  faces. 

"Thank  God!"  cried  Webb,  "I  believe  the  gale  is  nearly 
blown  out.  I  shall  follow  this  ridge  toward  the  river  as  far 
as  I  can." 


100  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  said  he  doctor,  promptly. 

"No,"  said  Webb;  "it  will  be  your  turn  next.  It  won't 
do  for  us  all  to  get  worn  out  together.  I'll  go  cautiously; 
and  with  this  ridge  as  guide,  and  the  fire,  I  can't  lose  my 
way.  I'll  take  one  of  the  dogs,  and  fire  my  gun  about  every 
ten  minutes.  If  I  fire  twice  in  succession,  follow  me ;  mean 
while  give  a  blast  on  the  conch  every  few  moments;"  and 
with  these  words  he  speedily  disappeared. 

The  doctor  and  Leonard  returned  to  the  fire,  and  watched 
the  great  flakes  fall  hissing  into  the  flames.  Hearing  of 
Webb's  expedition,  the  two  neighbors  who  had  recently 
joined  them  pushed  on  up  the  road,  shouting  and  blowing 
the  conch-shell  as  often  as  they  deemed  it  necessary.  Their 
signal  also  was  to  be  two  blasts  should  they  meet  with  any 
success.  Leonard  and  the  doctor  were  a  corps  de  reserve. 
The  wind  soon  ceased  altogether,  and  a  stillness  that  was 
almost  oppressive  took  the  place  of  the  thunder  of  the  gale. 
They  threw  themselves  down  to  rest,  and  Leonard  observed 
with  a  groan  how  soon  his  form  grew  white.  "Oh,  doctor," 
he  said  in  a  tone  of  anguish,  "can  it  be  that  we  shall  never 
find  Burt  till  the  snow  melts?" 

"Do  not  take  so  gloomy  a  view,"  was  the  reply.  "Burt 
must  have  been  able  to  make  a  fire,  and  now  that  the  wind 
has  ceased  we  can  attract  his  attention." 

Webb's  gun  was  heard  from  time  to  time,  the  sounds 
growing  steadily  fainter.  At  last,  far  away  to  the  east,  came 
two  reports  in  quick  succession.  The  two  men  started  up, 
and  with  the  aid  of  lanterns  followed  Webb's  trail,  Abram 
bringing  up  the  rear  with  an  axe  and  blankets. 

Sometimes  up  to  his  waist  in  snow,  sometimes  springing 
from  rock  to  rock  that  the  wind  had  swept  almost  bare,  Webb 
had  toiled  on  along  the  broken  ridge,  his  face  scratched  and 
bleeding  from  the  shaggy,  stunted  trees  that  it  was  too  dark 
to  avoid;  but  he  thought  not  of  such  trifles,  and  seemed 
endowed  with  a  strength  ten  times  his  own.  Every  few 
moments  he  would  stop,  listen,  and  peer  about  him  on 
every  side.  Finally,  after  a  rather  long  upward  climb,  he 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY  101 

knew  lie  had  reached  a  rock  of  some  altitude.  He  again 
fired  his  gun.  The  echoes  soon  died  away,  and  there  was 
no  sound  except  the  low  tinkle  of  the  snowflakes  through 
the  bushes.  He  was  just  about  to  push  on,  when,  far  down 
to  the  right  and  south  of  him,  he  thought  he  saw  a  gleam 
of  light.  He  looked  long  and  eagerly,  but  in  vain.  He 
passed  over  to  that  side  of  the  ridge,  and  fired  again ;  but 
there  was  no  response — nothing  but  the  dim,  ghostly  snow 
on  every  side.  Concluding  that  it  had  been  but  a  trick  of 
the  imagination,  he  was  about  to  give  up  the  hope  that 
had  thrilled  his  heart,  when  feebly  but  unmistakably  a  ray 
of  light  shot  up,  wavered,  and  disappeared.  At  the  same 
moment  his  dog  gave  a  loud  bark,  and  plunged  down  the 
ridge.  A  moment  sufficed  to  give  the  preconcerted  signal, 
and  almost  at  the  risk  of  life  and  limb  Webb  rushed  down 
the  precipitous  slope.  He  had  not  gone  very  far  before  he 
heard  a  long,  piteous  howl  that  chilled  his  very  soul  with 
dread.  He  struggled  forward  desperately,  and,  turning  the 
angle  of  a  rock,  saw  a  dying  fire,  and  beside  it  a  human 
form  merely  outlined  through  the  snow.  As  the  dog  was 
again  raising  one  of  his  ill-omened  howls,  Webb  stopped 
him  savagely,  and  sprang  to  the  prostrate  figure,  whose 
face  was  buried  in  its  arm. 

It  was  Burt.  Webb  placed  a  hand  that  trembled  like  an 
aspen  over  his  brother's  heart,  and  with  a  loud  cry  of  joy 
felt  its  regular  beat.  Burt  had  as  yet  only  succumbed  to 
sleep,  which  in  such  Cases  is  fatal  when  no  help  interposes. 
Webb  again  fired  twice  to  guide  the  rescuing  party,  and 
then  with  some  difficulty  caused  Burt  to  swallow  a  little 
brandy.  He  next  began  to  chafe  his  wrists  with  the  spirits, 
to  shake  him,  and  to  shout  in  his  ear.  Slowly  Burt  shook 
off  his  fatal  lethargy,  and  by  the  time  the  rest  of  the  party 
reached  him,  was  conscious. 

"Good  God!"  he  exclaimed,  "did  I  go  to  sleep?  I  vowed 
I  would  not  a  hundred  times.  Nor  would  1  if  I  could  have 
moved  around;  but  I've  sprained  my  ankle,  and  can't  walk. " 

With  infinite  difficulty,  but  with  hearts  light  and  grate- 


102  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

fu.1,  they  carried  him  on  an  improvised  stretcher  to  the  sled. 
Burt  explained  that  he  had  been  lured  further  and  further 
away  by  a  large  eagle  that  had  kept  just  out  of  range,  and 
in  his  excitement  he  had  at  first  paid  no  attention  to  the 
storm.  Finally  its  increasing  fury  and  the  memory  of  his 
distance  from  home  had  brought  him  to  his  senses,  and  he 
had  struck  out  for  the  West  Point  road.  Still  he  had  no 
fears  or  misgivings,  but  while  climbing  the  slope  on  which 
he  was  found,  he  slipped,  fell,  and  in  trying  to  save  himself 
came  down  with  his  whole  weight  on  a  loose  stone,  and 
sprained  his  left  ankle.  He  tried  to  crawl  and  hobble  for 
ward,  and  for  a  time  gave  way  to  something  like  panic. 
He  soon  found  that  he  was  using  up  his  strength,  and  that 
he  would  perish  with  the  cold  before  he  could  make  half 
a  mile.  He  then  crawled  under  the  sheltering  ledge  where 
Webb  discovered  him,  and  by  the  aid  of  his  good  woodcraft 
soon  had  a  fire,  for  it  was  his  fortune  to  have  some  matches. 
A  dead  and  partially  decayed  tree,  a  knife  strong  enough 
to  cut  the  saplings  when  bent  over,  supplied  him  with  fuel. 
Finally  the  drowsiness  which  long  exposure  to  cold  induces 
began  to  oppress  him.  He  fought  against  it  desperately  for 
a  time,  but,  as  events  proved,  was  overpowered. 

"God  bless  you,  Webb!"  he  said,  concluding  his  story. 
"You  have  saved  my  life." 

"We  have  all  had  a  hand  at  it,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 
"I  couldn't  have  done  anything  alone." 

Wrapped  up  beyond  the  possibility  of  further  danger 
from  the  cold,  and  roused  from  time  to  time,  Burt  was 
carried  homeward  as  fast  as  the  drifts  permitted,  the 
horses'  bells  now  chiming  musically  in  the  still  air. 

As  hour  after  hour  passed  and  there  was  nothing  left  to 
do,  Amy  took  Johnnie  on  her  lap,  and  they  rocked  back 
and  forth  and  cried  together.  Soon  the  heavy  lids  closed 
over  the  little  girl's  eyes,  and  shut  off  the  tears.  Alf  had 
already  coiled  up  on  a  lounge  and  sobbed  himself  to  sleep. 
Maggie  took  up  the  little  girl,  laid  her  down  beside  him, 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY  108 

and  covered  them  well  from  the  draughts  that  the  furious 
gale  drove  through  every  crack  and  cranny  of  the  old 
house,  glad  that  they  had  found  a  happy  oblivion.  Amy 
then  crept  to  a  footstool  at  Mrs.  Clifford's  side — the  place 
where  she  had  so  often  seen  the  youth  whom  the  storm 
she  now  almost  began  to  believe  had  swept  from  them  for 
ever — and  she  bowed  her  head  on  the  old  lady's  thin  hand 
and  sobbed  bitterly. 

"Don't  give  way  so,  darling,"  said  the  mother,  as  her 
other  hand  stroked  the  brown  hair.  "  God  is  greater  than 
the  storm.  We  have  prayed,  and  we  now  feel  that  he  will 
do  what  is  best." 

"Oh,  that  I  had  your  faith!" 

"It  will  come  in  time — when  long  years  have  taught  you 
his  goodness." 

She  slowly  wiped  her  eyes,  and  stole  a  glance  at  Mr. 
Clifford.  His  earlier  half -desperate  restlessness  had  passed 
away,  and  he  sat  quietly  in  his  chair  gazing  into  the  fire, 
occasionally  wiping  a  tear  from  his  eyes,  and  again  looking 
upward  with  an  expression  of  sublime  submission.  Soon, 
as  if  conscious  of  her  wondering  observation,  he  said, 
"Come  to  me,  Amy." 

She  stood  beside  him,  and  he  drew  her  close  as  he 
continued: 

"My  child,  one  of  the  hardest  lessons  we  can  learn  in 
this  world  is  to  say,  'Not  my  will,  but  Thine  be  done.'  I 
have  lived  fourscore  years,  and  yet  I  could  not  say  it  at 
first;  but  now"  (with  a  calm  glance  heavenward)  "I  can 
say,  'My  Father,  thy  will  be  done.'  If  he  takes  Burt,  he 
has  given  us  you;"  and  he  kissed  her  so  tenderly  that  she 
bowed  her  head  upon  his  shoulder,  and  said,  brokenly: 

"You  are  my  father  in  very  truth." 

"Yes,"  was  his  quiet  response. 

Then  she  stole  back  to  her  seat.  There  was  a  Presence 
in  the  room  that  filled  her  with  awe,  and  yet  banished  her 
former  overwhelming  dread  and  grief. 

They  watched  and  waited;  there  was  no  sound  in  the 


104  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

room  except  the  soft  crackle  of  the  fire,  and  Amy  thought 
deeply  on  the  noble  example  before  her  of  calm,  trustful 
waiting.  At  last  she  became  conscious  that  the  house  was 
growing  strangely  still ;  the  faint  tick  of  the  great  clock  on 
the  landing  of  the  stairs  struck  her  ear;  the  rush  and  roar 
of  the  wind  had  ceased.  Bewildered,  she  rose  softly  and 
went  to  Maggie's  room,  and  found  that  the  tired  mother 
in  watching  over  her  children  had  fallen  asleep  in  her  chair. 
She  lifted  a  curtain,  and  could  scarcely  believe  her  eyes 
when  she  saw  that  the  trees  that  had  been  writhing  and 
moaning  in  the  gale  now  stood  white  and  spectral  as  the 
lamp-light  fell  upon  them.  When  had  the  wind  ceased? 
It  seemed  as  if  the  calm  that  had  fallen  upon  her  spirit 
had  extended  to  nature;  that  the  storm  had  hushed  its  rude 
clamor  even  while  it  continued.  From  the  window  she 
watched  the  white  flakes  flutter  through  the  light  she 
knew  not  how  long;  the  old  clock  chimed  out  midnight, 
and  then,  faint  and  far  away,  she  thought  she  heard  the 
sleigh-bells.  With  swift,  silent  tread,  she  rushed  to  a  side 
door  and  threw  it  open.  Yes,  clear  and  distinct  she  now 
heard  them  on  the  mountain  road.  With  a  low  cry  she  re 
turned  and  wakened  Maggie,  then  flew  to  the  old  people, 
and,  with  a  voice  that  she  tried  in  vain  to  steady,  said, 
"They  are  coming." 

Mr.  Clifford  started  up,  and  was  about  to  rush  from  the 
room,  but  paused  a  moment  irresolutely,  then  returned,  sat 
down  by  his  wife,  and  put  his  arm  around  her.  He  was 
true  to  his  first  love.  The  invalid  had  grown  faint  and 
white,  but  his  touch  and  presence  were  the  cordials  she 
needed. 

Amy  fled  back  to  the  side  door,  and  the  sled  soon  ap 
peared.  There  was  no  light  at  this  entrance,  and  she  was 
unobserved.  She  saw  them  begin  to  lift  some  one  out,  and 
she  dashed  through  an  intervening  drift  nearly  to  her  waist. 
Webb  felt  a  hand  close  on  his  arm  with  a  grip  that  he  long 
remembered. 

"Burt?"  she  cried,  in  a  tone  of  agonizing  inquiry. 


ALMOST   A    TRAGEDY  105 

"Heigh-ho,  Amy,"  said  the  much-muffled  figure  that 
they  were  taking  from  the  sled;  "I'm  all  right." 

In  strong  reaction,  the  girl  would  have  fallen,  had  not 
Webb  supported  her.  He  felt  that  she  trembled  and  clung 
almost  helplessly  to  him. 

"Why,  Amy,"  he  said,  gently,  "you  will  take  your 
death  out  here  in  the  cold  and  snow";  and  leaving  the 
others  to  care  for  Burt,  he  lifted  her  in  his  arms  and  car 
ried  her  in. 

"Thank  God,  he's  safe,"  she  murmured.  "Oh,  we  have 
waited  so  long!  There,  I'm  better  now,"  she  said,  hastily, 
and  with  a  swift  color  coming  into  her  pale  cheeks,  as  they 
reached  the  door. 

"You  must  not  expose  yourself  so  again,  sister  Amy." 

"I  thought — I  thought  when  you  began  to  lift  Burt 
out — "  But  she  could  not  finish  the  sentence. 

"He  has  only  sprained  his  ankle.     Go  tell  mother." 

Perhaps  there  is  no  joy  like  that  which  fills  loving  hearts 
when  the  lost  is  found.  It  is  so  pure  and  exalted  that  it  is 
one  of  the  ecstasies  of  heaven.  It  would  be  hard  to  describe 
how  the  old  house  waked  up  with  its  sudden  accession  of  life 
— life  that  was  so  warm  and  vivid  against  the  background  of 
the  shadow  of  death.  There  were  murmured  thanksgivings 
as  feet  hurried  to  and  fro,  and  an  opening  fire  of  questions, 
which  Maggie  checked  by  saying: 

"Possess  your  souls  in  patience.  Burt's  safe — that's 
enough  to  know  until  he  is  cared  for,  and  my  half-fam 
ished  husband  and  the  rest  get  their  supper.  Pretty  soon 
we  can  all  sit  down,  for  I  want  a  chance  to  hear  too." 

' '  And  no  one  has  a  better  right,  Maggie, ' '  said  her  hus 
band,  chafing  his  hands  over  the  fire.  "After  what  we've 
seen  to-night,  this  place  is  the  very  abode  of  comfort,  and 
you  its  presiding  genius;"  and  Leonard  beamed  and  thawed 
until  the  air  grew  tropical  around  him. 

At  Mrs.  Clifford's  request  (for  it  was  felt  that  it  was  not 
best  to  cross  the  invalid),  Burt,  in  the  rocking-chair  wherein 
he  had  been  placed,  was  carried  to  her  room,  and  received  a 


106  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

greeting  from  his  parents  that  brought  tears  to  the  young 
fellow's  eyes.  Dr.  Marvin  soon  did  all  within  his  power  at 
that  stage  for  the  sprained  ankle  and  frost-bitten  fingers,  the 
mother  advising,  and  feeling  that  she  was  still  caring  for  her 
boy  as  she  had  done  a  dozen  years  before.  Then  Burt  was 
carried  back  to  the  dining-room,  where  all  were  soon  gath 
ered.  The  table  groaned  under  Maggie's  bountiful  provi 
sion,  and  lamp- light  and  fire-light  revealed  a  group  upon 
which  fell  the  richer  light  of  a  great  joy. 

Burt  was  Tavenously  hungry,  but  the  doctor  put  him  on 
limited  diet,  remarking,  "You  can  soon  make  up  for  lost 
time."  He  and  Leonard,  however,  made  such  havoc  that 
Amy  pretended  to  be  aghast;  but  she  soon  noted  that  Webb 
ate  sparingly,  that  his  face  was  not  only  scratched  and  torn, 
but  almost  haggard,  and  that  he  was  unusually  quiet.  The 
reasons  were  soon  apparent.  When  all  were  helped,  and 
Maggie  had  a  chance  to  sit  down,  she  said: 

"Now  tell  us  about  it.  We  just  heard  enough  when  you 
first  arrived  to  curdle  our  blood.  How  in  the  world,  Burt, 
did  you  allow  yourself  to  get  caught  in  such  a  storm  ?" 

"If  it  had  not  been  for  this  confounded  sprain  1  should 
have  come  out  all  right;"  and  then  followed  the  details  with 
which  the  reader  is  acquainted,  although  little  could  be  got 
out  of  Webb. 

"The  upshot  of  it  all  is,"  said  Leonard,  as  he  beamed 
upon  the  party  with  ineffable  content,  "between  mother's 
praying  and  Webb's  looking,  Burt  is  here,  not  much  the 
worse  for  his  eagle  hunt." 

They  would  not  hear  of  the  doctor's  departure,  and  very 
soon  afterward  old  Mr.  Clifford  gathered  them  around  the 
family  altar  in  a  thanksgiving  prayer  that  moistened  every 
eye. 

Then  all  prepared  for  the  rest  so  sorely  needed.  As 
Webb  went  to  the  hall  to  hang  up  his  gun,  Amy  saw  that 
he  staggered  in  his  almost  mortal  weariness,  and  she  fol 
lowed  him. 

"There  are  your  colors,    Amy,"   he    said,   laughingly, 


ALMOST  A    TRAGEDY  107 

taking  her  scarf  from  an  inner  pocket.  "I  wore  it  till  an 
envious  scrub- oak  tore  it  off.  It  was  of  very  great  help  to 
me — the  scarf,  not  the  oak. ' ' 

"Webb,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "you  can't  disguise  the 
truth  from  me  by  any  such  light  words.  You  are  half- 
dead  from  exhaustion.  I've  been  watching  you  ever  since 
your  return.  You  are  ill — you  have  gone  beyond  your 
strength,  and  in  addition  to  it  all  I  let  you  carry  me  in. 
Oh  dear!  I'm  so  worried  about  you!" 

"It's  wonderfully  nice  to  have  a  little  sister  to  worry 
about  a  fellow." 

"But  can't  I  do  something  for  you?  You've  thought 
about  everybody,  and  no  one  thinks  for  you." 

' '  You  have,  and  so  have  the  rest,  as  far  as  there  was  oc 
casion.  Let  me  tell  you  how  wan  and  weary  you  look.  Oh, 
Amy,  our  home  is  so  much  more  to  us  since  you  came!" 

"What  would  our  home  be  to  us  to-night,  Webb,  were 
it  not  for  you!  And  I  said  you  took  Burt's  danger  too 
coolly.  How  I  have  reproached  myself  for  those  words. 
God  bless  you,  Webb!  you  did  not  resent  them;  and  you 
saved  Burt;"  and  she  impulsively  put  her  arm  around  his 
neck  and  kissed  him,  then  fled  to  her  room. 

The  philosophical  Webb  might  have  had  much  to  think 
about  that  night  had  he  been  in  an  analytical  mood,  for  by 
some  magic  his  sense  of  utter  weariness  was  marvellously 
relieved.  With  a  low  laugh,  he  thought, 

"I'd  be  tempted  to  cross  the  mountains  again  for  such  a 
reward." 


108  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER   XIV 

HINTS     OF     SPRING 

WHEN  Amy  awoke  on  the  following  morning  she 
was  almost  dazzled,  so  brilliant  was  the  light 
that  flooded  the  room.  Long,  quiet  sleep  and 
the  elasticity  of  youth  had  banished  all  depression  from 
mind  and  body,  and  she  sprang  eagerly  to  the  window  that 
she  might  see  the  effects  of  the  storm,  expecting  to  witness 
its  ravages  on  every  side.  Imagine  her  wonder  and  delight 
when,  instead  of  widespread  wreck  and  ruin,  a  scene  of  in 
describable  beauty  met  her  eyes  1  The  snow  had  draped  all 
things  in  white.  The  trees  that  had  seemed  so  gaunt  and 
skeleton-like  as  they  writhed  and  moaned  in  the  gale  were 
now  clothed  with  a  beauty  surpassing  that  of  their  summer 
foliage,  for  every  branch,  even  to  the  smallest  twig,  had 
been  incased  in  the  downy  flakes.  The  evergreens  looked 
like  old-time  gallants  well  powdered  for  a  festival.  The 
shrubbery  of  the  garden  was  scarcely  more  than  mounds  of 
snow.  The  fences  had  almost  disappeared;  while  away  as 
far  as  the  eye  could  reach  all  was  sparkling  whiteness. 
Nature  was  like  a  bride  adorned  for  her  nuptials.  Under 
the  earlier  influences  of  the  gale  the  snow  had  drifted  here 
and  there,  making  the  undulations  of  her  robe,  and  under 
the  cloudless  sun  every  crystal  glittered,  as  if  over  all  had 
been  flung  a  profusion  of  diamond  dust.  Nor  did  she  seem 
a  cold,  pallid  bride  without  heart  or  gladness.  Her  breath 
was  warm  and  sweet,  and  full  of  an  indefinable  suggestion 
of  spring.  She  seemed  to  stand  radiant  in  maidenly  purity 
and  loveliness,  watching  in  almost  breathless  expectation 
the  rising  of  the  sun  above  the  eastern  mountains. 

A  happy  group  gathered  at  the  breakfast- table  that  morn- 


HINTS   OF  SPRING  109 

ing.  Rest  of  mind  and  thankfulness  of  heart  had  conduced 
to  refreshing  repose,  and  the  brightness  of  the  new  day  was 
reflected  in  every  face.  Burt's  ankle  was  painful,  but  this 
was  a  slight  matter  in  contrast  with  what  might  have  been 
his  fate.  He  had  insisted  on  being  dressed  and  brought  to 
the  lounge  in  the  breakfast-room.  Webb  seemed  wonder 
fully  restored,  and  Amy  thought  he  looked  almost  hand 
some  in  his  unwonted  animation,  in  spite  of  the  honorable 
scars  that  marked  his  face.  Dr.  Marvin  exclaimed,  exultingly : 

"Miss  Amy,  you  can  begin  the  study  of  ornithology  at 
once.  There  are  bluebirds  all  about  the  house,  and  you 
have  no  idea  what  exquisite  bits  of  color  they  are  against 
the  snow  "on  this  bright  morning.  After  breakfast  you 
must  go  out  and  greet  these  first  arrivals  from  the  South." 

"Yes,  Amy,"  put  in  Leonard,  laughing,  "it's  a  lovely 
morning  for  a  stroll.  The  snow  is  only  two  feet  deep,  and 
drifted  in  many  places  higher  than  your  head.  .  The  'beau 
tiful  snow'  brings  us  plenty  of  prose  in  the  form  of  back- 
aching  work  with  our  shovels." 

"No  matter,"  said  Webb;  "it  has  also  brought  us 
warmth,  exquisitely  pure  air,  and  a  splendid  covering  for 
grass  and  grain  that  will  be  apt  to  last  well  into  the  spring. 
Anything  rather  than  mud  and  the  alternate  freezing  and 
thawing  that  are  as  provoking  as  a  capricious  friend. ' ' 

"Why,  Webb,  what  a  burst  of  sentiment!"  said  Burt. 

"Doctor,  the  bluebirds  seem  to  come  like  the  south  wind 
that  Leonard  says  is  blowing  this  morning,"  Mrs.  Clifford 
remarked.  "Where  were  they  last  night?  and  how  have 
they  reached  us  after  such  a  storm  ?' ' 

"I  imagine  that  those  we  hear  this  morning  have  been 
with  us  all  winter,  or  they  may  have  arrived  before  the 
storm.  I  scarcely  remember  a  winter  when  I  have  not  seen 
some  around,  and  their  instinct  guides  them  where  to  find 
shelter.  When  the  weather  is  very  cold  they  are  compara 
tively  silent,  but  even  a  January  thaw  will  make  them  tune 
ful.  They  are  also  migrants,  and  have  been  coming  north 
ward  for  a  week  or  two  past,  and  this  accounts  for  the 


110  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

numbers  this  morning.  Poor  little  things!  they  must  have 
had  a  hard  time  of  it  last  night,  wherever  they  were. ' ' 

"Oh,  I  do  wish  I  could  make  them  know  how  glad  I'd 
be  to  take  them  in  and  keep  them  warm  every  cold  night!" 
shy  Johnnie  whispered  to  Maggie. 

"They  have  a  better  mother  than  even  you  could  be," 
said  the  doctor,  nodding  at  the  little  girl. 

"Have  all  the  bluebirds  a  mother?"  she  asked,  with 
wondering  eyes. 

"Indeed  they  have,  and  all  the  other  birds  also,  and  this 
mother  takes  care  of  them  the  year  round — Mother  Nature, 
that's  her  name.  Your  heart  may  be  big  enough,  but  your 
house  would  not  begin  to  hold  all  the  bluebirds,  so  Mother 
Nature  tells  the  greater  part  of  them  to  go  where  it's  warm 
about  the  1st  of  December,  and  she  finds  them  winter  homes 
all  the  way  from  Virginia  to  Florida.  Then  toward  spring 
she  whispers  when  it  is  safe  to  come  back,  and  if  you  want 
to  see  how  she  can  take  care  of  those  that  are  here  even 
during  such  a  storm  as  that  of  last  night,  bundle  up  and 
come  out  on  the  sunny  back  piazza." 

There  all  the  household  soon  after  assembled,  the  men 
armed  with  shovels  to  aid  in  the  path-making  in  which 
Abram  was  already  engaged.  Burt  was  placed  in  a  rock 
ing-chair  by  a  window  that  he  might  enjoy  the  prospect 
also.  A  charming  winter  outlook  it  was,  brilliant  with 
light  and  gemmed  with  innumerable  crystals.  To  Amy's 
delight,  she  heard  for  the  first  time  the  soft,  down-like  notes 
of  the  bluebird.  At  first  they  seemed  like  mere  "wander 
ing  voices  in  the  air,"  sweet,  plaintive,  and  delicate  as  the 
wind-swayed  anemone.  Then  came  a  soft  rustle  of  wings, 
and  a  bird  darted  downward,  probably  from  the  eaves,  but 
seemingly  it  was  a  bit  of  the  sky  that  had  taken  form  and 
substance.  He  flew  past  her  and  dislodged  a  miniatuie 
avalanche  from  the  spray  on  which  he  alighted.  The  little 
creature  sat  still  a  moment,  then  lifted  and  stretched  one 
wing  by  an  odd  coquettish  movement  while  it  uttered  its 
low  musical  warble. 


HINTS    OF   SPRING  111 

"Why,"  exclaimed  Amy,  "he  is  almost  the  counterpart 
of  our  robin-redbreast  of  England!" 

"Yes,"  replied  Dr.  Marvin,  "he  resembles  your  English 
redbreast  closely  both  in  appearance  and  habits,  and  our 
New  England  forefathers  called  him  the  'blue  robin.'  To 
my  taste  the  bluebird  is  the  superior  of  the  two,  for  what 
he  lacks  in  stronger  and  more  varied  song  he  makes  up  in 
softer,  sweeter  notes.  And  then  he  is  so  beautiful !  You 
have  no  blue  birds  of  any  kind  in  England,  Amy.  It  seems 
to  require  our  deeper-tinted  skies  to  produce  them.  Ah, 
there  comes  his  mate.  You  can  tell  her  by  the  lighter  blue 
of  her  plumage,  and  the  tinge  of  brown  on  her  head  and 
back.  She  is  a  cold,  coy  beauty,  even  as  a  wife;  but  how 
gallant  is  her  azure-coated  beau!  Flirt  away,  my  little 
chap,  and  make  the  most  of  your  courting  and  honeymoon. 
You  will  soon  have  family  cares  enough  to  discourage  any 
body  but  a  bluebird;"  and  the  doctor  looked  at  his  favor 
ites  with  an  exulting  affection  that  caused  a  general  laugh. 

"I  shall  give  our  little  friends  something  better  than 
compliments,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  obeying  his  hospitable 
instincts,  and  he  waded  through  the  snow  to  the  sunny  side 
of  an  evergreen,  and  there  cleared  a  space  until  the  ground 
was  bare.  Then  he  scattered  over  this  little  plot  an  abun 
dance  of  bread-crumbs  and  hay  seed,  and  they  all  soon  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  half  a  dozen  little  bobbing  heads  at 
breakfast.  Johnnie  and  Alf,  who  oil  account  of  the  deep 
snow  did  not  go  to  school,  were  unwearied  in  watching  the 
lovely  little  pensioners  on  their  grandfather's  bounty — not 
pensioners  either,  for,  as  the  old  man  said,  "They  pay  their 
way  with  notes  that  I  am  always  glad  to  accept. ' ' 

The  work  of  path-making  and  shovelling  snow  from  the 
doors  and  roofs  of  the  out-buildings  went  on  vigorously  all 
the  morning.  Abram  also  attached  the  farm  horses  to  the 
heavy  snow-plow,  to  which  he  added  his  weight,  and  a 
broad,  track-like  furrow  was  made  from  the  house  to  the 
road,  and  then  for  a  mile  or  more  each  way  upon  the -street, 
for  the  benefit  of  the  neighbors.  Before  the  day  was  very 


112  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

far  advanced,  the  south  wind,  which  had  been  a  scarcely 
perceptible  breath,  freshened,  and  between  the  busy  shovels 
and  the  swaying  branches  the  air  was  full  of  glittering  crys 
tals.  The  bride- like  world  was  throwing  off  her  ornaments 
and  preparing  for  the  prose  of  every-day  life;  and  yet  she 
did  so  in  a  cheerful,  lightsome  mood.  The  sunny  eaves 
dropped  a  profusion  of  gems  from  the  melting  snow.  There 
was  a  tinkle  of  water  in  the  pipes  leading  to  the  cistern. 
From  the  cackle  in  the  barn-yard  it  appeared  that  the  hens 
had  resolved  on  unwonted  industry,  and  were  receiving  ap 
plause  from  the  oft-crowing  chanticleers.  The  horses,  led 
out  to  drink,  were  in  exuberant  spirits,  and  appeared  to  find 
a  child's  delight  in  kicking  up  the  snow.  The  cows  came 
briskly  from  their  stalls  to  the  space  cleared  for  them,  and 
were  soon  ruminating  in  placid  content.  What  though  the 
snow  covered  the  ground  deeper  than  at  any  time  during 
the  winter,  the  subtile  spirit  of  spring  was  recognized  and 
welcomed  not  only  by  man,  but  also  by  the  lower  creation! 

After  putting  Burt  in  a  fair  way  of  recovery,  Dr.  Marvin, 
armed  with  a  shovel  to  burrow  his  way  through  the  heavier 
drifts,  drove  homeward.  Alf  floundered  off  to  his  traps,  and 
returned  exultant  with  two  rabbits.  Amy  was  soon  busy 
sketching  them  previous  to  their  transformation  into  a  pot- 
pie,  Burt  looking  on  with  a  deeper  interest  in  the  artist  than 
in  her  art,  although  he  had  already  learned  that  she  had  not 
a  little  skill  with  her  pencil.  Indeed,  Burt  promised  to  be 
come  quite  reconciled  to  his  part  of  invalid,  in  spite  of  pro 
testations  to  the  contrary;  and  his  inclination  to  think  that 
Amy's  companionship  would  be  an  antidote  for  every  ill  of 
life  was  increasing  rapidly,  in  accordance  with  his  hasty  tem 
perament,  which  arrived  at  conclusions  long  before  others 
had  begun  to  consider  the  steps  leading  to  them. 

Amy  was  still  more  a  child  than  a  woman;  but  a  girl 
must  be  young  indeed  who  does  not  recognize  an  admirer, 
especially  so  transparent  a  one  as  Burt  would  ever  be.  His 
ardent  glances  and  compliments  both  amused  and  annoyed 
her.  From  his  brothers  she  had  obtained  several  hints  of 


HINTS   OF  SPRING  113 

his  previous  and  diversified  gallantries,  and  was  not  at  all 
.assured  that  those  in  the  future  might  not  be  equally  varied. 
She  did  not  doubt  the  sincerity  of  his  homage,  however; 
and  since  she  had  found  it  so  easy  to  love  him  as  a  brother, 
it  did  not  seem  impossible  that  she  should  learn  to  regard 
him  in  another  light,  if  all  thought  it  best,  and  he  "would 
only  be  sensible  and  understand  that  she  did  not  wish  to 
think  about  such  things  for  years  to  come."  Thus  it  may 
be  seen  that  in  one  respect  her  heart  was  not  much  more 
advanced  than  that  of  little  Johnnie.  She  expected  to  be 
married  some  time  or  other,  and  supposed  it  might  as  well 
be  to  Burt  as  to  another,  if  their  friends  so  desired  it;  but 
Bhe  was  for  putting  off  submission  to  woman's  natural  lot 
as  long  as  possible.  Possessing  much  tact,  she  was  able  in 
a  great  measure  to  repress  the  young  fellow's  demonstrative- 
ness,  and  maintain  their  brotherly  and  sisterly  relations;  but 
it  cost  her  effort,  and  sometimes  she  left  his  society  flurried 
and  wearied.  With  "Webb  she  enjoyed  perfect  rest  and  a 
pleasing  content.  He  was  so  quiet  and  strong  that  his  very 
presence  seemed  to  soothe  her  jarring  nerves.  He  appeared 
to  understand  her,  to  have  the  power  to  make  much  that  in 
terested  her  more  interesting,  while  upon  her  little  feminine 
mysteries  of  needle  and  fancy  work  he  looked  with  an  ad 
miring  helplessness,  as  if  she  were  more  unapproachable  in 
her  sphere  than  he  could  ever  be  in  his,  with  all  his  scien 
tific  facts  and  theories.  Women  like  this  tribute  to  their 
womanly  ways  from  the  sterner  sex.  Maggie's  wifehood 
was  made  happy  by  it,  for  by  a  hundred  little  things  she 
knew  that  the  great,  stalwart  Leonard  would  be  lost  with 
out  her.  Moreover,  by  his  rescue  of  Burt,  Webb  had  won 
a  higher  place  in  Amy's  esteem.  He  had  shown  the  prompt 
energy  and  courage  which  satisfy  woman's  ideal  of  man 
hood,  and  assure  her  of  protection.  Amy  did  not  analyze 
her  feelings  or  consciously  assure  herself  of  all  this.  She 
only  felt  that  Webb  was  restful,  and  would  give  her  a  sense 
of  safety,  no  matter  what  happened. 


114:  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 


CHAPTER   XV 

NATURE'S  BUILDING  MATERIALS 

SOME  days  after  Burt's  adventure,  Dr.  Marvin  made  his 
professional  call  in  the  evening.  Mr.  Alvord,  Squire 
Bartley,  and  the  minister  also  happened  in,  and  all 
were  soon  chatting  around  Mr.  Clifford's  ruddy  hearth. 
The  pastor  of  this  country  parish  was  a  sensible  man,  who, 
if  he  did  not  electrify  his  flock  of  a  Sunday  morning,  hon 
estly  tried  to  guide  it  along  safe  paths,  and  led  those  whom 
he  asked  to  follow.  His  power  lay  chiefly  in  the  homes  of 
his  people,  where  his  genial  presence  was  ever  welcomed. 
He  did  no  regard  those  to  whom  he  ministered  as  so  many 
souls  and  subjects  of  theological  dogma,  but  as  flesh-and- 
blood  men,  women,  and  children,  with  complex  interests 
and  relations;  and  the  heartiness  of  his  laugh  over  a  joke, 
often  his  own,  and  the  havoc  that  he  made  in  the  dishes  of 
nuts  and  apples,  proved  that  he  had  plenty  of  good  health 
ful  blood  himself.  Although  his  hair  was  touched  with 
frost,  and  he  had  never  received  any  degree  except  his 
simple  A.M.,  although  the  prospect  of  a  metropolitan  pulpit 
had  grown  remote  indeed,  he  seemed  the  picture  of  content 
as  he  pared  his  apple  and  joined  in  the  neighborly  talk. 

Squire  Bartley  had  a  growing  sense  of  shortcoming  in 
his  farming  operations.  Notwithstanding  his  many  acres, 
he  felt  himself  growing  "land-poor,"  as  country  people 
phrase  it.  He  was  not  a  reader,  and  looked  with  undis 
guised  suspicion  on  book-farming.  As  for  the  agricultural 
journals,  he  said  "they  were  full  of  new-fangled  notions, 
and  were  kept  up  by  people  who  liked  to  see  their  names  in 


NATURE'S   BUILDING    MATERIALS  115 

print."  Nevertheless,  he  was  compelled  to  admit  that  the 
Cliffords,  who  kept  abreast  of  the  age,  obtained  better  crops, 
and  made  their  business  pay  far  better  than  he  did,  and  he 
was  inclined  to  turn  his  neighborly  calls  into  thrifty  use  by 
questioning  Leonard  and  Webb  concerning  their  methods 
and  management.  Therefore  he  remarked  to  Leonard:  "Do 
you  find  that  you  can  keep  your  land  in  good  condition  by 
rotation  of  crops  ?  Folks  say  this  will  do  it,  but  I  find  some 
of  our  upland  is  getting  mighty  thin,  and  crops  uncer 
tain." 

"What  is  your  idea  of  rotation,  squire?" 

"Why,  not  growin'  the  same  crop  too  often  on  the  same 
ground. ' ' 

"That  is  scarcely  my  idea.  For  the  majority  of  soils  the 
following  rotation  has  been  found  most  beneficial:  corn  and 
potatoes,  which  thoroughly  subdue  the  sod  the  first  year; 
root  crops,  as  far  as  we  grow  them,  and  oats  the  second; 
then  wheat  or  rye,  seeded  at  the  same  time  with  clover  or 
grass  of  some  kind.  We  always  try  to  plow  our  sod  land 
in  the  fall,  for  in  the  intervening  time  before  planting  the 
sod  partially  decays,  the  land  is  sweetened  and  pulverized 
by  the  action  of  frost,  and  a  good  many  injurious  insects  are 
killed  also.  But  all  rules  need  modification,  and  we  try  to 
study  the  nature  of  our  various  soils,  and  treat  them  accord- 
ingly." 

"What!  have  a  chemist  prescribe  for  'em  like  a  doctor  ?" 
sneered  the  squire.  "Mr.  Walters,  the  rich  city  chap  who 
bought  Roger's  worn-out  farm,  tried  that  to  his  heart's  con 
tent,  and  mine  too.  He  had  a  little  of  the  dirt  of  each  part 
of  his  farm  analyzed,  you  know,  and  then  he  sent  to  New 
York  for  his  phosphates,  his  potashes,  his  muriates,  and  his 
compound-super-universal  panacea  vegetates,  and  with  all 
these  bad-smelling  mixtures — his  barn  was  like  a  big  agri 
cultural  drug-store — he  was  going  to  put  into  his  skinned 
land  just  the  elements  lacking.  In  short,  he  gave  his  soil  a 
big  dose  of  powders,  and  we  all  know  the  result.  If  he  had 
given  his  farm  a  pinch  of  snuff  better  crops  ought  to  have 


116  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

been  sneezed.  No  chemicals  and  land  doctors  for  me,  thank 
you.  Beg  pardon,  Marvin !  no  reflections  on  your  calling, 
but  doctorin'  land  don't  seem  profitable  for  those  who  pay 
for  the  medicine." 

They  all  laughed  except  Webb,  who  seemed  nettled,  but 
who  quietly  said,  "Squire,  will  you  please  tell  us  what  your 
house  is  made  of  ?' ' 

"Good  lumber,  sir." 

"Well,  when  passing  one  day,  I  saw  a  fine  stalk  of  corn 
in  one  of  your  fields.  Will  you  also  tell  us  what  that  was 
made  of?  It  must  have  weighed,  with  the  ears  upon  it, 
several  pounds,  and  it  was  all  of  six  feet  high.  How  did 
it  come  into  existence  ?" 

"Why,  it  grew,"  said  the  squire,  sententiously. 

"That  utterance  was  worthy  of  Solomon,"  remarked  Dr. 
Marvin,  laughing. 

"It  grew,"  continued  Webb,  "because  it  found  the 
needed  material  at  hand.  I  do  not  see  how  Nature  can 
build  a  well-eared  stalk  of  corn  without  proper  material 
any  more  than  you  could  have  built  your  house  without 
lumber.  Suppose  we  have  a  soil  in  which  the  elements  that 
make  a  crop  of  corn  do  not  exist,  or  are  present  in  a  very 
deficient  degree,  what  course  is  left  for  us  but  to  supply 
what  is  lacking  ?  Because  Mr.  Walters  did  not  do  this  in 
the  right  way,  is  no  reason  why  we  should  do  nothing.  If 
soil  does  not  contain  the  ingredients  of  a  crop,  we  must  put 
them  there,  or  our  labor  goes  for  nothing." 

"Well,  of  course  there's  no  gettin'  around  that;  but  yard 
manure  is  all  I  want.  It's  like  a  square  meal  to  a  man,  and 
not  a  bit  of  powder  on  his  tongue." 

"No  one  wants  anything  better  than  barn-yard  manure 
for  most  purposes,  for  it  contains  nearly  all  the  elements 
needed  by  growing  plants,  and  its  mechanical  action  is  most 
beneficial  to  the  soil.  But  how  many  acres  will  you  be  able 
to  cover  with  this  fertilizer  this  spring?" 

"That's  just  the  rub,"  the  squire  answered.  "We  use 
all  we  have,  and  when  I  can  pick  it  up  cheap  I  buy  some; 


NATURE'S   BUILDING    MATERIALS  117 

but  one  can't  cover  a  whole  farm  with  it,  and  so  in  spite  of 
you  some  fields  get  all  run  out." 

"I  don't  think  there's  any  need  of  their  running  out," 
said  Leonard,  emphatically.  "I  agree  with  Webb  in  one 
thing,  if  I  can't  follow  him  in  all  of  his  scientific  theories 
— we  have  both  decided  never  to  let  a  field  grow  poor,  any 
more  than  we  would  permit  a  horse  or  cow  to  so  lose  in  flesh 
as  to  be  nearly  useless ;  therefore  we  not  only  buy  fertilizers 
liberally,  but  use  all  the  skill  and  care  within  our  power  to 
increase  them.  Barn-yard  manure  can  be  doubled  in  bulk 
and  almost  doubled  in  value  by  composting  with  the  right 
materials.  We  make  the  most  of  our  peat  swamps,  fallen 
leaves,  and  rubbish  in  general.  Enough  goes  to  waste  on 
many  farms  every  year  to  keep  several  acres  in  good  heart. 
But,  as  you  say,  we  cannot  begin  to  procure  enough  to  go 
over  all  the  land  from  which  we  are  taking  crops  of  some 
kind;*  therefore  we  maintain  a  rotation  which  is  adapted  to 
our  various  soils,  and  every  now  and  then  plow  under  a 
heavy  green  crop  of  clover,  buckwheat,  or  rye.  A  green 
crop  plowed  under  is  my  great  stand-by." 

"I  plowed  under  a  crop  of  buckwheat  once,"  said  the 
squire,  discontentedly,  "and  I  didn't  see  much  good  from 
it,  except  that  the  ground  was  light  and  mellow  afterward." 

"That,  at  least,  was  a  gain,"  Leonard  continued;  "but 
I  can  tell  you  why  your  ground  was  not  much  benefited, 
and  perhaps  injured.  You  scarcely  plowed  under  a  green 
crop,  for  I  remember  that  the  grain  in  your  buckwheat 
straw  was  partly  ripe.  It  is  the  forming  seed  or  grain  that 
takes  the  substance  out  of  land.  You  should  have  plowed 
the  buckwheat  under  just  as  it  was  coming  into  blossom. 
Up  to  that  time  the  chief  growth  had  been  derived  from  the 
air,  and  there  had  been  very  little  drain  upon  the  soil. ' ' 

"Well!"  exclaimed  the  squire,  incredulously,  "I  didn't 
know  the  air  was  so  nourishing. ' ' 

Webb  had  been  showing  increasing  signs  of  disquietude 
during  the  last  few  moments,  and  now  said,  with  some 
emphasis:  "It  seems  to  me,  squire,  that  there  is  not  much 


118  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

hope  of  our  farming  successfully  unless  we  do  know  some 
thing  of  the  materials  that  make  our  crops,  and  the  condi 
tions  under  which  they  grow.  When  you  built  your  house 
you  did  not  employ  a  man  who  had  only  a  vague  idea  of 
how  it  was  to  be  constructed,  and  what  it  was  to  be  built 
of.  Before  your  house  was  finished  you  had  used  lumber 
as  your  chief  material,  but  you  also  employed  brick,  stone, 
lime,  sand,  nails,  etc.  If  we  examine  a  house,  we  find  all 
these  materials.  If  we  wish  to  build  another  house,  we 
know  we  must  use  them  in  their  proper  proportions.  Now 
it  is  just  as  much  a  matter  of  fact,  and  is  just  as  capable 
of  proof,  that  a  plant  of  any  kind  is  built  up  on  a  regular 
plan,  and  from  well-defined  materials,  as  that  a  house  is  so 
built.  The  materials  in  various  houses  differ  just  as  the 
elements  in  different  kinds  of  plants  vary.  A  man  can  de 
cide  what  he  will  build  of;  Nature  has  decided  forever 
what  she  will  build  of.  She  will  construct  a  stalk  of*corn 
or  wheat  with  its  grain  out  of  essentially  the  same  materials 
to  the  end  of  time.  Now  suppose  one  or  more  of  these  nec 
essary  ingredients  is  limited  in  the  soil,  or  has  been  taken 
from  it  by  a  succession  of  crops,  what  rational  hope  can  we 
have  for  a  good  crop  unless  we  place  the  absent  material  in 
the  ground,  and  also  put  it  there  in  a  form  suitable  for  the 
use  of  the  plant  ?' ' 

"What  you  say  sounds  plausible  enough,"  answered  the 
squire,  scratching  his  head  with  the  worried,  perplexed 
air  of  a  man  convinced  against  his  will.  "How  was  it, 
then,  that  Walters  made  such  a  mess  of  it?  He  had  his 
soil  analyzed  by  a  land  doctor,  and  boasted  that  he  was 
going  to  put  into  it  just  what  was  lacking.  His  soil  may 
not  be  lacking  now,  but  his  crops  are." 

"It  is  possible  that  there  are  quacks  among  land  doc 
tors,  as  you  call  them,  as  well  as  among  doctors  of  medi 
cine,"  remarked  Dr.  Marvin. 

"Or  doctors  of  theology,"  added  the  minister. 

"I  looked  into  the  Walters  experiment  somewhat  care 
fully,"  Webb  resumed,  "and  the  causes  of  his  failure  were 


NATURE'S   BUILDING   MATERIALS  119 

apparent  to  any  one  who  has  given  a  little  study  to  the 
nature  of  soils  and  plant  food.  Some  of  his  land  needs 
draining.  The  ground  is  sour  and  cold  from  stagnant  water 
beneath  the  surface,  and  the  plant  food  which  Nature  origi 
nally  placed  in  it  is  inert  and  in  no  condition  to  be  used. 
Nearly  all  of  his  uplands  have  been  depleted  of  organic  or 
vegetable  matter.  He  did  not  put  into  the  soil  all  that  the 
plants  needed,  and  the  fact  that  his  crops  were  poor  proves 
it.  The  materials  he  used  may  have  been  adulterated,  or 
not  in  a  form  which  the  plants  could  assimilate  at  the  time. 
Give  Nature  a  soil  in  the  right  mechanical  condition — that 
is,  light,  mellow,  moist,  but  not  wet,  and  containing  the 
essential  elements  of  a  crop — and  she  will  produce  it  unless 
the  season  is  so  adverse  that  it  cannot  grow.  I  do  not  see 
how  one  can  hope  to  be  successful  unless  he  studies  Nature's 
methods  and  learns  her  needs,  adapting  his  labor  to  the 
former,  and  supplying  the  latter.  For  instance,  nitrogen  in 
the  form  of  ammonia  is  so  essential  to  our  crops  that  with 
out  it  they  could  never  come  to  maturity  were  all  the  other 
elements  of  plant  food  present  in  excess.  Suppose  that  for 
several  successive  years  we  grow  wheat  upon  a  field  with 
an  average  crop  of  twenty-five  bushels  to  the  acre.  This 
amount  of  grain  with  its  straw  will  take  from  the  soil  about 
fifty-one  pounds  of  ammonia  annually,  and  when  the  nitro 
gen  (which  is  the  main  element  of  ammonia)  gives  out, 
the  wheat  will  fail,  although  other  plant  food  may  be 
present  in  abundance.  This  is  one  reason  why  dairy  farms 
from  which  all  the  milk  is  sold  often  grow  poor.  Milk  is 
exceedingly  rich  in  nitrogen,  and  through  the  milk  the  farm 
is  depleted  of  this  essential  element  faster  than  it  is  replaced 
by  fertilizers.  A  man  may  thus  be  virtually  selling  his  farm, 
or  that  which  gives  it  value,  without  knowing  it." 

"But  what's  a  man  to  do?"  asked  the  squire,  with  a 
look  of  helpless  perplexity.  "How  is  one  to  know  when 
his  land  needs  nitrogen  or  ammonia  and  all  the  other  kinds 
of  plant  food,  as  you  call  it,  and  how  must  he  go  to  work  to 
get  and  apply  it?" 


120  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"You  arc  asking  large  questions,  squire,"  Webb  replied, 
with  a  quiet  smile.  "In  the  course  of  a  year  you  decide  a 
number  of  legal  questions,  and  I  suppose  read  books,  con 
sult  authorities,  and  use  considerable  judgment.  It  cer 
tainly  never  would  do  for  people  to  settle  these  questions 
at  hap-ha^ard  or  according  to  their  own  individual  notions. 
Their  decisions  might  be  reversed.  Whatever  the  courts 
may  do,  Nature  is  certain  to  reverse  our  decisions  and 
bring  to  naught  our  action  unless  we  comply  with  her  laws 
and  requirements." 

The  squire's  experience  coincided  so  truly  with  Webb's 
words  that  he  urged  no  further  objections  against  accurate 
agricultural  knowledge,  even  though  the  information  must 
be  obtained  in  part  at  least  from  books  and  journals. 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS  121 


CHAPTER  XVI 

GOSSIP  ABOUT   BIRD-NEIGHBORS 

4'|->^  OCTOR,"  said  Mm  Leonard,  "Amy  and  I  have 
I  been  indulging  in  some  surmises  over  a  remark 
•*— *  you  made  the  other  day  about  the  bluebirds. 
You  said  the  female  was  a  cold,  coy  beauty,  and  that  hei 
mate  would  scon  be  overburdened  with  family  cares. 
Indeed,  I  think  you  rather  reflected  on  our  sex  as  repre 
sented  by  Mrs.  Bluebird." 

"I  fear  I  cannot  retract.  The  female  bluebird  is  singu 
larly  devoid  of  sentiment,  and  takes  life  in  the  most  serious 
and  matter-of-fact  way.  Her  nest  and  her  young  are  all  iu 
all  to  her.  John  Burroughs,  who  is  a  very  close  observer, 
says  she  shows  no  affection  for  the  male  and  no  pleasure  in 
his  society,  and  if  he  is  killed  she  goes  in  quest  of  another 
mate  in  the  most  business-like  manner,  as  one  would  go  to 
a  shop  on  an  errand." 

"The  heartless  little  jade!"  cried  Maggie,  with  a  glance 
at  Leonard  which  plainly  said  that  such  was  not  her  style 
at  all. 

"Nevertheless,"  continued  the  doctor,  "she  awakens  a 
love  in  her  husband  which  is  blind  to  every  defect  He  is 
gallantry  itself,  and  at  the  same  time  the  happiest  and  most 
hilarious  of  lovers.  Since  she  insists  on  building  her  nest 
herself,  and  having  everything  to  her  own  mind,  he  doea 
not  shrug  his  blue  shoulders  and  stand  indifferently  or  sul 
lenly  aloof.  He  goes  with  her  everywhere,  flying  a  little  in 
advance  as  if  for  protection,  inspects  her  work  with  flatter- 

Vol.  1       aF 


122  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

ing  minuteness,  applauds  and  compliments  continually. 
Indeed,  lie  is  the  ideal  French  beau  very  much  in  love." 

"In  other  words,  the  counterpart  of  Leonard,"  said 
Burt,  at  which  they  all  laughed. 

"But  you  spoke  of  his  family  cares,"  Webb  remarked: 
"he  contributes  something  more  than  compliments,  does 
he  not?" 

"Indeed  he  does.  He  settles  down  into  the  most  devoted 
of  husbands  and  fathers.  The  female  usually  hatches  three 
broods,  and  as  the  season  advances  he  has  his  hands,  or  his 
beak  rather,  very  full  of  business.  I  think  Burroughs  is 
mistaken  in  saying  that  he  is  in  most  cases  the  ornamental 
member  of  the  firm.  He  feeds  his  wife  as  she  sits  on  the 
nest,  and  often  the  first  brood  is  not  out  of  the  way  before 
he  has  another  to  provide  for.  Therefore  he  is  seen  bring 
ing  food  to  his  wife  and  two  sets  of  children,  and  occasion 
ally  taking  her  place  on  the  nest.  Nor  does  he  ever  get 
over  his  delusion  that  his  mate  is  delighted  with  his  song 
and  little  gallantries,  for  he  kepps  them  up  also  to  the  last. 
So  he  has  to  be  up  early  and  late,  and  altogether  must  be  a 
very  tired  little  bird  when  he  gets  a  chance  to  put  his  head 
under  his  wing. ' ' 

"Poor  little  fellow!  and  to  think  that  she  doesn't  care 
for  him  I"  sighed  Amy,  pityingly;  and^hey  all  laughed  so 
heartily  that  she  bent  her  head  over  her  work  to  hide  the 
rich  color  that  stole  into  her  face — all  laughed  except  Mr. 
Alvord,  who,  as  usual,  was  an  attentive  and  quiet  listener, 
sitting  a  little  in  the  background,  so  that  his  face  was  in 
partial  shadow.  Keen-eyed  Maggie,  whose  sympathies  were 
deeply  enlisted  in  behalf  of  her  sad  and  taciturn  neighbor, 
observed  that  he  regarded  Amy  with  a  close,  wistful  scru 
tiny,  as  if  he  were  reading  her  thoughts.  Then  an  expres 
sion  of  anguish,  of  something  like  despair,  flitted  across 
his  face.  "He  has  lavished  the  best  treasures  of  his  heart 
find  life  on  some  one  who  did  not  care,"  was  her  mental 
comment. 

"You  won't  be  like  our  little  friend  in  blue,  eh,  Amy?" 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS  123 

said  old  Mr.  Clifford;  but  with  girlish  shyness  she  would 
not  reply  to  any  such  question. 

"Don't  take  it  so  to  heart,  Miss  Amy.  Mr.  B.  is  never 
disenchanted,"  the  doctor  remarked. 

"I  don't  like  Mrs.  B.  at  all,"  said  Maggie,  decidedly;  "and 
it  seems  to  me  that  I  know  women  of  whom  she  is  a  type  — 
women  whose  whole  souls  are  engrossed  with  their  material 
life.  Human  husbands  are  not  so  blind  as  bluebirds,  and 
they  want  something  more  than  housekeepers  and  nurses  in 
their  wives." 

"Excellent!"  cried  Rev.  Mr.  Barkdale;  "you  improve 
the  occasion  better  than  I  could.  But,  doctor,  how  about 
our  callous  widow  bluebird  finding  another  mate  after  the 
mating  season  is  over  ?' ' 

"There  are  always  some  bachelors  around,  unsuccessful 
wooers  whose  early  blandishments  were  vain." 

"And  are  there  no  respectable  spinsters  with  whom  they 
might  take  up  as  a  last  resort?"  Leonard  queried. 

"No,  none  at  all.  Think  of  that,  ye  maiden  of  New  Eng 
land,  where  the  males  are  nearly  all  migrants  and  do  not  re 
turn!  The  only  chance  for  a  bird-bachelor  is  to  console 
some  widow  whom  accident  has  bereaved  of  her  mate. 
Widowers  also  are  ready  for  an  immediate  second  marriage. 
Birds  and  beasts  of  prey  and  boys — hey,  Alf — bring  about 
a  good  many  step-parents." 

"Alf  don't  kill  any  little  birds,  do  you,  Alf?"  asked 
his  mother. 

"Well,  not  lately.  You  said  they  felt  so  bad  over  it. 
But  if  they  get  over  it  so  easy  as  the  doctor  says — " 

"Now,  doctor,  you  see  the  result  of  your  scientific 
teaching." 

"Why,  Mrs.  Leonard,  are  you  in  sympathy  with  the 
priestcraft  that  would  keep  people  virtuous  through  igno 
rance?"  said  the  minister,  laughing.  "Alf  must  learn  to 
do  right,  knowing  all  the  facts.  I  don't  believe  he  will  shy 
a  stone  at  a  bird  this  coming  year  unless  it  is  in  mischief." 

"Well,"  said  Squire  Bartley,  who  had  relapsed  into  a 


124  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

half- doze  as  the  conversation  lost  its  practical  bent,  "be 
tween  the  birds  and  boys  I  don't  see  as  we  shall  be  able 
to  raise  any  fruit  before  long.  If  our  boys  hadn't  killed 
about  all  the  robins  round  our  house  last  summer,  I  don't 
think  we'd  'a  had  a  cherry  or  strawberry." 

"I'm  afraid,  squire,"  put  in  Webb,  quietly,  "that  if  all 
followed  your  boys'  example,  insects  would  soon  have  the 
better  of  us.  They  are  far  worse  than  the  birds.  I've  seen 
it  stated  on  good  authority  that  a  fledgling  robin  eats  forty 
per  cent  more  than  its  own  weight  every  twenty-four  hours, 
and  I  suppose  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  compute 
the  number  of  noxious  worms  and  moths  destroyed  by 
a  family  of  robins  in  one  season.  They  earn  their  share 
of  fruit." 

"Webb  is  right,  squire,"  added  the  doctor,  emphatically. 
"Were  it  not  for  the  birds,  the  country  would  soon  be  as 
bare  as  the  locusts  left  Egypt.  Even  the  crow,  against 
which  you  are  so  vindictive,  is  one  of  your  best  friends." 

"Oh,,  now,  come,  I  can't  swallow  that.  Crows  pull  up 
my  corn,  rob  hens'  nests,  carry  off  young  chickens.  They 
even  rob  the  nests  of  the  oth^r  birds  you're  so  fond  of. 
Why,  some  state  legislatures  give  a  bounty  for  their 
destruction. ' ' 

"If  there  had  only  been  a  bounty  for  killing  off  the 
legislators,  the  states  would  have  fared  better, ' '  replied  the 
doctor,  with  some  heat.  "It  can  be  proved  beyond  a  doubt 
that  the  crow  is  unsurpassed  by  any  other  bird  in  useful 
ness.  He  is  one  of  the  best  friends  you  have." 

'.'Deliver  me  from  my  friends,  then,"  said  the  squire, 
rising;  and  he  departed,  with  his  prejudices  against  modern 
ideas  and  methods  somewhat  confirmed. 

Like  multitudes  of  his  class,  he  observed  in  nature  only 
that  which  was  forced  upon  his  attention  through  the  me 
dium  of  immediate  profit  and  loss.  The  crows  pulled  up 
his  corn,  and  carried  off  an  occasional  chicken;  the  robins 
ate  a  little  fruit;  therefore  death  to  crows  and  robins.  They 
all  felt  a  certain  sense  of  relief  at  his  departure,  for  while 


GOSSIP   ABOUT   BIRD-NEIGHBORS  125 

their  sympathies  touched  his  on  the  lower  plane  of  mere 
utility^  and  money  value,  it  would  be  bondage  to  them  to  be 
kept  from  other  and  higher  considerations.  Moreover,  in 
his  own  material  sphere  his  narrow  prejudices  were  ever  a 
jarring  element  that  often  exasperated  Webb,  who  had  been 
known  to  mutter,  "Such  clods  of  earth  bring  discredit  on 
our  calling." 

Burt,  with  a  mischievous  purpose  illuminating  his  face, 
remarked:  "I'll  try  to  put  the  squire  into  a  dilemma.  If  I 
can  catch  one  of  his  boys  shooting  robins  out  of  season,  I 
will  lodge  a  complaint  with  him,  and  insist  on  the  fine;" 
and  his  design  was  laughingly  applauded. 

"I  admit,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "that  Webb  has  won  me 
over  to  a  toleration  of  crows,  but  until  late  years  I  re 
garded  them  as  unmitigated  pests." 

"Undeserved  enmity  comes  about  in  this  way,"  Webb 
replied.  "We  see  a  crow  in  mischief  occasionally,  and  the 
fact  is  laid  up  against  him.  If  we  sought  to  know  what  he 
was  about  when  not  in  mischief,  our  views  would  soon 
change.  It  would  be  far  better  to  have  a  little  corn  pulled 
up  than  to  be  unable  to  raise  corn  at  all.  Crows  can  be 
kept  from  the  field  during  the  brief  periods  when  they  do 
harm,  but  myriads  of  grasshoppers  cannot  be  managed. 
Moreover,  the  crow  destroys  very  many  field-mice  and 
other  rodents,  but  chief  of  all  he  is  the  worst  enemy  of 
the  May-beetle  and  its  larvae.  In  regions  of  the  country 
where  the  crow  has  been  almost  exterminated  by  poison 
and  other  means,  this  insect  has  left  the  meadows  brown 
and  sear,  while  grasshoppers  have  partially  destroyed  the 
most  valuable  crops.  Why  can't  farmers  get  out  of  their 
plodding,  ox- like  ways,  and  learn  to  co-work  with  Nature 
like  men?" 

"Hurrah  for  Webb!"  cried  Burt.  "Who  would  have 
thought  that  the  squire  and  a  crow  could  evoke  such  a 
peroration  ?  That  flower  of  eloquence  surely  grew  from  a 
rank,  dark  soil." 

"Squire  Bartley  amuses  me  very  much,"  said  Mrs.  Clif- 


126  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

ford,  from  the  sofa,  with  a  low  laugh.  "He  seems  the  only 
one  who  has  the  power  to  ruffle  Webb." 

"Little  wonder,"  thought  Amy,  "for  it  would  be  hard 
to  find  two  natures  more  antagonistic. ' ' 

"It  seems  to  me  that  this  has  been  a  very  silent  winter, " 
the  minister  remarked.  "In  my  walks  and  drives  of  late  I 
have  scarcely  heard  the  chirp  of  a  bird.  Are  there  many 
that  stay  with  us  through  this  season,  doctor  ?' ' 

"More  than  you  would  suppose.  But  you  would  not  be 
apt  to  meet  many  of  them  unless  you  sought  for  them.  At 
this  time  they  are  gathered  in  sheltered  localities  abounding 
in  their  favorite  food.  Shall  I  tell  you  about  some  that  I 
have  observed  throughout  several  successive  winters?" 

Having  received  eager  encouragement,  he  resumed:  "My 
favorites,  the  bluebirds,  we  have  considered  quite  at  length. 
They  are  very  useful,  for  their  food  in  summer  consists 
chiefly  of  the  smaller  beetles  and  the  larvae  of  little  butter 
flies  and  moths.  Many  robins  stay  all  winter.  It  is  a  ques 
tion  of  food,  not  climate,  with  them.  In  certain  valleys  of 
the  White  Mountains  there  is  an  abundance  of  berries,  and 
flocks  of  robins  feed  on  them  all  winter,  although  the  cold 
reaches  the  freezing-point  of  mercury.  As  we  have  said, 
they  are  among  the  most  useful  of  the  insect  destroyers. 
The  golden-crested  kinglet  is  a  little  mite  of  a  bird,  not 
four  inches  long,  with  a  central  patch  of  orange-red  on  his 
crown.  He  breeds  in  the  far  North,  and  wintering  here  is 
for  him  like  going  to  the  South.  In  summer  he  is  a  fly 
catcher,  but  here  he  searches  the  bark  of  forest  trees  with 
microscopic  scrutiny  for  the  larvae  of  insects.  We  all  know 
the  lively  black-capped  chickadees  that  fly  around  in  flocks 
throughout  the  winter.  Sometimes  their  search  for  food 
leads  them  into  the  heart  of  towns  and  cities,  where  they 
are  as  bold  and  as  much  at  home  as  the  English  sparrow. 
They  also  gather  around  the  camps  of  log- cutters  in  the 
forest,  become  very  tame,  and  plaintively  cry  for  their 
share  in  the  meals.  They  remain  all  the  year,  nesting  in 
decayed  logs,  posts,  stumps,  and  even  in  sides  of  houses, 


GOSSIP   ABOUT   BIRD-NEIGHBORS  127 

although  they  prefer  the  edge  of  a  wood.  If  they  can  find 
a  hole  to  suit  them,  very  well;  if  they  can't,  they  will  make 
one.  Their  devotion  to  their  young  is  remarkable.  A  nest 
in  a  decayed  stump  was  uncovered,  and  the  mother  bird 
twice  taken  off  by  hand,  and  each  time  she  returned  and 
covered  her  brood.  She  uttered  no  cries  or  complaints,  but 
devotedly  interposed  her  little  form  between  what  must  have 
seemed  terrific  monsters  and  her  young,  and  looked  at  the 
human  ogres  with  the  resolute  eyes  of  self-sacrifice.  If  she 
could  have  known  it,  the  monsters  only  wished  to  satisfy 
their  curiosity,  and  were  admiring  her  beyond  measure. 
Chickadees  are  exceedingly  useful  birds,  and  make  great 
havoc  among  the  insects. 

"Our  next  bird  is  merely  a  winter  sojourner,  for  he  goes 
north  in  spring  like  the  kinglet.  The  scientists,  with  a  fine 
sense  of  the  fitness  of  things,  have  given  him  a  name  in  har 
mony,  Troglodytes  parvulus,  var.  Hyemalis. ' ' 

"What  monster  bird  is  this?"  cried  Amy. 

"He  is  about  as  big  as  your  thumb,  and  ordinary  mor 
tals  are  content  to  call  him  the  winter  wren.  He  is  a  saucy 
little  atom  of  a  bird,  with  his  tail  pointing  rakishly  toward 
his  head.  I  regret  exceedingly  to  add  that  he  is  but  a  win 
ter  resident  with  us,  and  we  rarely  hear  his  song.  Mr.  Bur 
roughs  says  that  he  is  a  'marvellous  songster,'  his  notes  hav 
ing  a  'sweet  rhythmical  cadence  that  holds  you  entranced.' 
By  the  way,  if  you  wish  to  fall  in  love  with  birds,  you 
should  read  the  books  of  John  Burroughs.  A  little  mite 
of  a  creature,  like  the  hermit-thrush,  he  fills  the  wild,  re 
mote  woods  of  the  North  with  melody,  and  has  not  been 
known  to  breed  further  south  than  Lake  Mohunk.  The 
brown  creeper  and  the  yellow-rumped  warbler  I  will  merely 
mention.  Both  migrate  to  the  North  in  the  spring,  and  the 
latter  is  only  an  occasional  winter  resident.  The  former  is 
a  queer  little  creature  that  alights  at  the  base  of  a  tree  and 
creeps  spirally  round  and  round  to  its  very  top,  when  it 
sweeps  down  to  the  base  of  another  tree  to  repeat  the  proc 
ess.  He  is  ever  intent  on  business.  Purple  finches  are 


128  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

usually  abundant  in  winter,  though  not  very  numerous  in 
summer.  I  value  them  because  they  are  handsome  birds, 
and  both  male  and  female  sing  in  autumn  and  winter,  when 
bird  music  is  at  a  premium.  I  won't  speak  of  the  Carolina 
wax-wing,  alias  cedar  or  cherry  bird,  now.  Next  June, 
when  strawberries  and  cherries  are  ripe,  we  can  form  his 
intimate  acquaintance." 

"We  have  already  made  it,  to  the  cost  of  both  our  pa 
tience  and  purse,"  said  Webb.  "He  is  one  of  the  birds  for 
whom  I  have  no  mercy." 

"That  is  because  you  are  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with 
him.  I  admit  that  he  is  an  arrant  thief  of  fruit,  and  that, 
as  his  advocate,  I  have  a  difficult  case.  I  shall  not  plead 
for  him  until  summer,  when  he  is  in  such  imminent  danger 
of  capital  punishment.  He's  a  little  beauty,  though,  with 
his  jaunty  crest  and  gold-tipped  tail.  I  shall  not  say  one 
word  in  favor  of  the  next  bird  that  I  mention,  the  great 
Northern  shrike,  or  butcher-bird.  He  is  not  an  honest  bird 
of  prey  that  all  the  smaller  feathered  tribes  know  at  a  glance, 
like  the  hawk;  he  is  a  disguised  assassin,  and  possessed  by 
the  very  demon  of  cruelty.  He  is  a  handsome  fellow,  little 
over  ten  inches  long,  with  a  short,  powerful  beak,  the  upper 
mandible  sharply  curved.  His  body  is  of  a  bluish-gray 
color,  with  'markings  of  white'  on  his  dusky  wings  and 
tail.  Three  shrikes  once  made  such  havoc  among  the  spar 
rows  of  Boston  Common  that  it  became  necessary  to  take 
much  pains  to  destroy  them.  He  is  not  only  a  murderer, 
but  an  exceedingly  treacherous  one,  for  both  Mr.  Audubon 
and  Mr.  Nuttall  speak  of  his  efforts  to  decoy  little  birds 
within  his  reach  by  imitating  their  notes,  and  he  does  this 
so  closely  that  he  is  called  a  mocking-bird  in  some  parts  of 
New  England.  When  he  utters  his  usual  note  and  reveals 
himself,  his  voice  very  properly  resembles  the  *  discordant 
creaking  of  a  sign-board  hinge.'  A  flock  of  snow-birds  or 
finches  may  be  sporting  and  feeding  in  some  low  shrubbery, 
for  instance.  They  may  hear  a  bird  approaching,  imitating 
their  own  notes.  A  moment  later  the  shrike  will  be  seen. 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS  129 

among  them,  causing  no  alarm,  for  his  appearance  is  in  his 
favor.  Suddenly  he  will  pounce  upon  an  unsuspecting 
neighbor,  and  with  one  blow  of  his  beak  take  off  the  top 
of  its  head,  dining  on  its  brains.  If  there  is  a  chance  to 
kill  several  more,  he  will,  like  a  butcher,  hang  his  prey  on 
a  thorn,  or  in  the  crotch  of  a  tree,  and  return  for  his  favor 
ite  morsel  when  his  hunt  is  over.  After  devouring  the 
head  of  a  bird  he  will  leave  the  body,  unless  game  is  scarce. 
It  is  well  they  are  not  plentiful,  or  else  our  canary  pets 
would  be  in  danger,  for  a  shrike  will  dart  through  an  open 
window  and  attack  birds  in  cages,  even  when  members  of 
the  family  are  present.  In  one  instance  Mr.  Brewer,  the 
ornithologist,  was  sitting  by  a  closed  window  with  a  canary 
in  a  cage  above  his  head,  and  a  shrike,  ignorant  of  the  inter 
vening  glass,  dashed  against  the  window,  and  fell  stunned 
upon  the  snow.  He  was  taken  in,  and  found  to  be  tame, 
but  sullen.  He  refused  raw  meat,  but  tore  and  devoured 
little  birds  very  readily.  As  I  said  before,  it  is  fortunate 
he  is  ra.-e,  though  why  he  is  so  I  scarcely  know.  He  may 
have  enemies  in  the  North,  where  he  breeds;  for  I  am  glad 
to  say  that  he  is  only  a  winter  resident. 

"It  gives  one  a  genuine  sense  of  relief  to  turn  from  this 
Apache,  this  treacherous  scalper  of  birds,  to  those  genuinely 
useful  little  songsters,  the  tree  and  the  song  sparrow.  The 
former  is  essentially  a  Northern  bird,  and  breeds  in  the  high 
arctic  regions.  He  has  a  fine  song,  which  we  hear  in  early 
April  as  his  parting  souvenir.  The  song  sparrow  will  be  a 
great  favorite  with  you,  Miss  Amy,  for  he  is  one  of  our 
finest  singers,  whose  song  resembles  the  opening  notes  of 
a  canary,  but  has  more  sweetness  and  expression.  Those 
that  remain  with  us  depart  for  the  North  at  the  first  tokens 
of  spring,  and  are  replaced  by  myriads  of  other  migrants 
that  usually  arrive  early  in  March.  You  will  hear  them 
some  mild  morning  soon.  They  are  very  useful  in  destroy 
ing  the  worst  kinds  of  insects.  A  fit  associate  for  the  song 
sparrow  is  the  American  goldfinch,  or  yellow-bird,  which  is 
as  destructive  of  the  seeds  of  weeds  as  the  former  is  of  the 


130  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

smaller  insect  pests.  In  summer  it  is  of  a  bright  gamboge 
yellow,  with  black  crown,  wings,  and  tail.  At  this  time  he 
is  a  little  olive-brown  bird,  and  mingles  with  his  fellows  in 
small  flocks.  They  are  sometimes  killed  and  sold  as  reed- 
birds.  They  are  brilliant  singers. 

"The  snow-bird  and  snow-bunting  are  not  identical  by 
any  means;  indeed,  each  is  of  a  different  genus.  The  bunt 
ing's  true  home  is  in  the  far  North,  and  it  is  not  apt  to  be 
abundant  here  except  in  severe  weather.  Specimens  have 
been  found,  however,  early  in  November,  but  more  often 
they  appear  with  a  late  December  snowstorm,  their  wild 
notes  suggesting  the  arctic  wastes  from  which  they  have 
recently  drifted  southward.  The  sleigh  tracks  on  the 
frozen  Hudson  are  among  their  favorite  haunts,  and  they 
are  not  often  abundant  in  the  woods  on  this  side  of  the 
river.  Flocks  can  usually  be  found  spending  the  winter 
along  the  railroad  on  the  eastern  shore.  Here  they  become 
very  fat,  and  so  begrimed  with  the  dirt  and  grease  on  the 
track  that  you  would  never  associate  them  with  the  snowy 
North.  They  ever  make,  however,  a  singular  and  pretty 
spectacle  when  flying  up  between  one  and  the  late  after 
noon  sun,  for  the  predominant  white  in  their  wings  and  tail 
seems  almost  transparent.  They  breed  at  the  extreme 
North,  even  along  the  Arctic  Sea,  in  Greenland  and  Ice 
land,  and  are  fond  of  marine  localities  at  all  times.  It's 
hard  to  realize  that  the  little  fellows  with  whom  we  are  now 
so  familiar  start  within  a  month  for  regions  above  the  Arctic 
Circle.  I  once,  when  a  boy,  fired  into  a  flock  feeding  in  a 
sleigh  track  on  the  ice  of  the  river.  Some  of  those  that 
escaped  soon  returned  to  their  dead  and  wounded  com 
panions,  and  in  their  solicitude  would  let  me  come  very 
near,  nor,  unless  driven  away,  would  they  leave  the  injured 
ones  until  life  was  extinct.  On  another  occasion  I  brought 
some  wounded  ones  home,  and  they  ate  as  if  starved,  and 
soon  became  very  tame,  alighting  upon  the  table  at  meal 
times  with  a  freedom  from  ceremony  which  made  it  neces 
sary  to  shut  them  up.  They  spent  most  of  their  time  among 


GOSSIP   ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS  131 

the  house  plants  by  the  window,  but  toward  spring  the  mi 
gratory  instinct  asserted  itself,  and  they  became  very  rest 
less,  pecking  at  the  panes  in  their  eagerness  to  get  away. 
Soon  afterward  our  little  guests  may  have  been  sporting 
on  an  arctic  beach.  An  effort  was  once  made  in  Massa 
chusetts  to  keep  a  wounded  snow- bunting  through  the 
summer,  but  at  last  it  died  from  the  heat.  They  are 
usually  on  the  wing  northward  early  in  March. 

"The  ordinary  snow-bird  is  a  very  unpretentious  and 
familiar  little  friend.  You  can  find  him  almost  any  day 
from  the  1st  of  October  to  the  1st  of  May,  and  may  know 
him  by  his  grayish  or  ashy  black  head,  back,  and  wings, 
white  body  underneath  from  the  middle  of  his  breast  back 
ward,  and  white  external  tail-feathers.  He  is  said  to  be 
abundant  all  over  America  east  of  the  Black  Hills,  and 
breeds  as  far  south  as  the  mountains  of  Virginia.  There 
are  plenty  of  them  in  summer  along  the  Shawangunk  range, 
just  west  of  us,  in  the  Cats  kills,  and  so  northward  above  the 
Arctic  Circle.  In  the  spring,  before  it  leaves  us,  you  will 
often  hear  its  pretty  little  song.  They  are  very  much  afraid 
of  hawks,  which  make  havoc  among  them  at  all  times,  but 
are  fearless  of  their  human — and  especially  of  their  humane 
— neighbors.  Severe  weather  will  often  bring  them  to  our 
very  doors,  and  drive  them  into  the  outskirts  of  large  cities. 
They  are  not  only  harmless,  but  very  useful,  for  they  de 
vour  innumerable  seeds,  and  small  insects  with  their  larvae. 
Dear  me!  I  could  talk  about  birds  all  night." 

"And  we  could  listen  to  you,"  chorused  several  voices. 

"I  never  before  realized  that  we  had  such  interesting 
winter  neighbors  and  visitors,"  said  Mrs.  Clifford,  and  the 
lustre  of  her  eyes  and  the  faint  bloom  on  her  cheeks  proved 
how  deeply  these  little  children  of  nature  had  enlisted  her 
sympathies. 

"They  are  interesting,  even  when  in  one  short  evening 
I  can  give  but  in  bald,  brief  outline  a  few  of  their  charac 
teristics.  Your  words  suggest  the  true  way  of  becoming  ac 
quainted  with  them.  Eegard  them  as  neighbors  and  guests, 


132  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

in  the  main  very  useful  friends,  and  then  you  will  naturally 
wish  to  know  more  about  them.  In  most  instances  they  are 
quite  susceptible  to  kindness,  and  are  ready  to  be  intimate 
with  us.  That  handsome  bird,  the  blue  jay,  so  wild  at  the 
East,  is  as  tame  and  domestic  as  the  robin  in  many  parts  of 
the  West,  because  treated  well.  He  is  also  a  winter  resi 
dent,  and  one  of  the  most  intelligent  birds  in  existence. 
Indeed,  he  is  a  genuine  humorist,  and  many  amusing  stories 
are  told  of  his  pranks.  His  powers  of  mimicry  are  but 
slightly  surpassed  by  those  of  the  mocking-bird,  and  it 
is  his  delight  to  send  the  smaller  feathered  tribes  to  covert 
by  imitating  the  cries  of  the  sparrow,  hawk,  and  other  birds 
of  prey.  When  so  tame  as  to  haunt  the  neighborhood  of 
dwellings,  he  is  unwearied  in  playing  his  tricks  on  domestic 
fowls,  and  they — silly  creatures! — never  learn  to  detect  the 
practical  joke,  for,  no  matter  how  often  it  is  repeated,  they 
hasten  panic-stricken  to  shelter.  Wilson  speaks  of  him  as 
the  trumpeter  of  the  feathered  chorus,  but  his  range  of  notes 
is  very  great,  passing  from  harsh,  grating  sounds,  like  the 
screeching  of  an  unlubricated  axle,  to  a  warbling  as  soft  and 
modulated  as  that  of  a  bluebird,  and  again,  prompted  by 
his  mercurial  nature,  screaming  like  a  derisive  fish- wife. 
Fledglings  will  develop  contentedly  in  a  cage,  and  become 
tame  and  amusing  pets.  They  will  learn  to  imitate  the 
human  voice  and  almost  every  other  familiar  sound.  A 
gentleman  in  South  Carolina  had  one  that  was  as  loquacious 
as  a  parrot,  and  could  utter  distinctly  several  words.  In 
this  region  they  are  hunted,  and  too  shy  for  familiar  ac 
quaintance.  When  a  boy,  I  have  been  tantalized  almost 
beyond  endurance  by  them,  and  they  seemed  to  know  and 
delight  in  the  fact.  I  was  wild  to  get  a  shot  at  them,  but 
they  would  keep  just  out  of  range,  mocking  me  with  dis 
cordant  cries,  and  alarming  all  the  other  game  in  the  vicin 
ity.  They  of  ten -had  more  sport  than  I.  It  is  a  pity  that 
the  small  boy  with  his  gun  cannot  be  taught  to  let  them 
alone.  If  they  were  as  domestic  and  plentiful  as  robins, 
they  would  render  us  immense  service.  A  colony  of  jays 


GOSSIP  ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS  183 

would  soon  destroy  all  the  tent-caterpillars  on  your  place, 
and  many  other  pests.  In  Indiana  they  will  build  in  the 
shrubbery  around  dwellings,  but  we  usually  hear  their  cries 
from  mountain-sides  and  distant  groves.  Pleasant  memo 
ries  of  rambles  and  nutting  excursions  they  always  awaken. 
The  blue  jay  belongs  to  the  crow  family,  and  has  all  the 
brains  of  his  black-coated  and  more  sedate  cousins.  At 
the  North,  he  will,  like  a  squirrel,  lay  up  for  winter  a  hoard 
of  acorns  and  beech  mast.  An  experienced  bird-fancier  as 
serts  that  he  found  the  jay  'more  ingenious,  cunning,  and 
teachable  than  any  other  species  of  birds  that  he  had  ever 
attempted  to  instruct.' 

"One  of  our  most  beautiful  and  interesting  winter  visi 
tants  is  the  pine  grosbeak.  Although  very  abundant  in 
some  seasons,  even  extending  its  migrations  to  the  latitude 
of  Philadelphia,  it  is  irregular,  and  only  the  coldest  weather 
prompts  its  excursions  southward.  The  general  color  of  the 
males  is  a  light  carmine,  or  rose,  and  if  only  plentiful  they 
would  make  a  beautiful  feature  in  our  snowy  landscape.  As 
a  general  thing,  the  red  tints  are  brighter  in  the  American 
than  in  the  European  birds.  The  females,  however,  are 
much  more  modest  in  their  plumage,  being  ash-colored 
above,  with  a  trace  of  carmine  behind  their  heads  and 
upon  their  upper  tail  coverts,  and  sometimes  tinged  with 
greenish-yellow  beneath.  The  females  are  by  far  our  more 
abundant  visitants,  for  in  the  winter  of  '75  I  saw  numerous 
flocks,  and  not  over  two  per  cent  were  males  in  red  plumage. 
Still,  strange  to  say,  I  saw  a  large  flock  of  adult  males  the 
preceding  November,  feeding  on  the  seeds  of  a  Norway 
spruce  before  our  house.  Oh,  what  a  brilliant  assemblage 
they  made  among  the  dark  branches!  In  their  usual  haunts 
they  live  a  very  retired  life.  The  deepest  recesses  of  the 
pine  forests  at  the  far  North  are  their  favorite  haunts,  and 
here  the  majority  generally  remain  throughout  the  year. 
In  these  remote  wilds  is  bred  the  fearlessness  of  man  which 
is  the  result  of  ignorance,  for  they  are  among  the  tamest  of 
all  wild  birds,  finding,  in  this  respect,  their  counterpart  in 


134  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STCRY 

the  American  red  cross-bill,  another  occasional  cold-weather 
visitant.  For  several  winters  the  grosbeaks  were  exceed 
ingly  abundant  in  the  vicinity  of  Boston,  and  were  so  tame 
that  they  could  be  captured  in  butterfly  nets,  and  knocked 
down  with  poles.  The  markets  became  full  of  them,  and 
many  were  caged.  While  tame  they  were  very  unhappy  in 
confinement,  and  as  spring  advanced  their  mournful  cries 
over  their  captivity  became  incessant.  They  can  be  kept 
as  pets,  however,  and  will  often  sing  in  the  night.  Mr. 
Audubon  observed  that  when  he  fired  at  one  of  their  num 
ber,  the  others,  instead  of  flying  away,  would  approach 
within  a  few  feet,  and  gaze  at  him  with  undisguised  curi 
osity,  unmingled  with  fear.  I  have  seen  some  large  flocks 
this  winter,  and  a  few  fed  daily  on  a  bare  plot  of  ground  at 
the  end  of  our  piazza.  I  was  standing  above  this  plot  one 
day,  when  a  magnificent  red  male  flew  just  beneath  my  feet 
and  drank  at  a  little  pool.  I  never  saw  anything  more 
lovely  in  my  life  than  the  varying  sheen  of  his  brilliant 
tropical- like  plumage.  He  was  like  a  many-hued  animated 
flower,  and  was  so  fearless  that  I  could  have  touched  him 
with  a  cane.  One  very  severe,  stormy  winter  the  grosbeaks 
fairly  crowded  the  streets  of  Pictou.  A  gentleman  took 
one  of  these  half-starved  birds  into  his  room,  where  it  lived 
at  large,  and  soon  became  the  tamest  and  most  affectionate 
of  pets.  But  in  the  spring,  when  its  mates  were  migrating 
north,  Nature  asserted  herself,  and  it  lost  its  familiarity, 
and  filled  the  house  with  its  piteous  wailings,  refused  food, 
and  sought  constantly  to  escape.  When  the  grosbeaks  are 
with  us  you  would  not  be  apt  to  notice  them  unless  you 
stumbled  directly  upon  them,  for  they  are  the  most  silent 
of  birds,  which  is  remarkable,  since  the  great  majority  of 
them  are  females. " 

"That  is  just  the  reason  why  they  are  so  still,"  remarked 
Mrs.  Leonard.  "Ladies  never  speak  unless  they  have  some 
thing  to  say." 

"Far  be  it  from  me  to  contradict  you.  The  lady  gros 
beaks  certainly  have  very  little  to  say  to  one  another,  though 


OOSSIP   ABOUT   BIRD-NEIGHBORS  135 

when  mating  in  their  secluded  haunts  they  probably  express 
their  preferences  decidedly.  If  they  have  an  ear  for  music, 
they  must  enjoy  their  wooing  immensely,  for  there  is  scarcely 
a  lovelier  song  than  that  of  the  male  grosbeak.  I  never 
heard  it  but  once,  and  may  never  again;  but  the  thrill  of 
delight  that  I  experienced  that  intensely  cold  March  day  can 
never  be  forgotten.  I  was  following  the  course  of  a  stream 
that  flowed  at  the  bottom  of  a  deep  ravine,  when,  most  un 
expectedly,  I  heard  a  new  song,  which  proceeded  from  far 
up  the  glen.  The  notes  were  loud,  rich,  and  sweet,  and  I 
hastened  on  to  identify  the  new  vocalist.  I  soon  discovered 
a  superb  red  pine  grosbeak  perched  on  the  top  of  a  tall  hem 
lock.  His  rose-colored  plumage  and  mellow  notes  on  that 
bleak  day  caused  me  to  regret  exceedingly  that  he  was  only 
an  uncertain  and  transient  visitor  to  our  region. 

"We  have  a  large  family  of  resident  hawks  in  this  vicin 
ity;  indeed,  there  are  nine  varieties  of  this  species  of  bird 
with  us  at  this  time,  although  some  of  them  are  rarely  seen. 
The  marsh-hawk  has  a  bluish  or  brown  plumage,  and  in 
either  case  is  distinguished  by  a  patch  of  white  on  its  upper 
tail  coverts.  You  would  not  be  apt  to  meet  with  it  except 
in  its  favorite  haunts.  I  found  a  nest  in  the  centre  of  Con- 
sook  Marsh,  below  West  Point.  It  was  a  rude  affair.  The 
nests  of  this  hawk  are  usually  made  of  hay,  lined  with  pine 
needles,  and  sometimes  at  the  North  with  feathers.  This 
bird  is  found  nearly  everywhere  in  North  America,  and 
breeds  as  high  as  Hudson  Bay.  In  the  marshes  on  the  Dela 
ware  it  is  often  called  the  mouse-hawk,  for  it  sweeps  swiftly 
along  the  low  ground  in  search  of  a  species  of  mouse  com 
mon  in  that  locality.  It  is  said  to  be  very  useful  in  the 
Southern  rice-fields,  since,  as  it  sails  low,  it  interrupts 
the  flocks  of  bobolinks,  or  rice-birds,  in  their  depredations. 
Planters  say  that  one  marsh-hawk  accomplishes  more  than 
several  negroes  in  alarming  these  greedy  little  gourmands. 
In  this  region  they  do  us  no  practical  harm. 

"Our  most  abundant  hawk  is  the  broad- winged,  which 
will  measure  about  thirty-six  inches  with  wings  extended. 


136  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

The  plumage  of  this  bird  is  so  dusky  as  to  impart  a  preva 
lent  brownish  color,  and  the  species  is  distributed  generally 
over  eastern  North  America.  Unlike  the  marsli-hawk,  it 
builds  in  trees,  and  Mr.  Audubon  describes  a  nest  as  simi 
lar  to  that  of  the  crow — a  resemblance  easily  accounted  for 
by  the  frequency  with  which  this  hawk  will  repair  crows' 
nests  of  former  years  for  its  own  use.  I  once  shot  one  upon 
such  a  nest,  from  which  I  had  taken  crows'  eggs  the  preced 
ing  summer.  I  had  only  wounded  the  bird,  and  he  clawed 
me  severely  before  I  was  able  to  capture  him.  I  once  took 
a  fledgling  from  a  nest,  and  he  became  very  fond  of  me,  and 
quite  gentle,  but  he  would  not  let  any  one  else  handle  him. 
On  another  occasion,  when  I  was  examining  a  nest,  the  male 
bird  flew  to  a  branch  just  over  it,  uttering  loud,  squealing 
cries,  thence  darted  swiftly  past  me,  and  so  close  that  I  could 
feel  the  rush  of  air  made  by  his  wings;  then  he  perched  near 
again,  and  threatened  me  in  every  way  he  could,  extending 
his  wings,  inclining  his  head  and  body  toward  me,  making 
meanwhile  a  queer  whistling  sound.  Only  when  I  reached 
the  nest  would  the  female  leave  it,  and  then  she  withdrew 
but  a  short  distance,  returning  as  soon  as  I  began  to  de 
scend.  The  devotion  of  these  wild  creatures  to  their  young 
is  often  marvellous.  Mr.  Audubon  describes  this  hawk  as 
'spiritless,  inactive,  and  so  deficient  in  courage  that  he  is 
often  chased  by  the  little  sparrow-hawk  and  kingbird.' 
Another  naturalist  dissents  emphatically  from  this  view, 
and  regards  the  broad-winged  as  the  most  courageous  and 
spirited  of  his  family,  citing  an  instance  of  a  man  in  his 
employ  who,  while  ascending  to  a  nest,  was  assailed  with 
great  fury.  His  hat  was  torn  from  his  head,  and  he  would 
have  been  injured  had  not  the  bird  been  shot.  He  also 
gives  another  example  of  courage  in  an  attack  by  this  hawk 
upon  a  boy  seeking  to  rob  its  nest.  It  fastened  its  talons  in 
his  arm,  and  could  not  be  beaten  off  until  it  was  killed. 
Perhaps  both  naturalists  are  right.  It  is  brave  and  fierce 
when  its  home  is  disturbed,  and  lacks  the  courage  to  attack 
other  birds  of  its  own  kind.  At  any  rate,  it  has  no  hesi- 


GOSSIP   ABOUT   BIRD-NEIGHBORS  137 

tancy  in  making  hawk- love  to  chickens  and  ducklings,  but 
as  a  rule  subsists  on  insects  and  small  quadrupeds.  It  is 
not  a  very  common  winter  resident,  but  early  in  March  it 
begins  to  come  northward  in  flocks. 

"Next  to  the  broad- winged,  the  sharp-shinned  is  our 
most  abundant  hawk,  and  is  found  throughout  the  entire 
contient  from  Hudson  Bay  to  Mexico.  It  usually  builds 
its  nest  in  trees,  and  occasionally  on  ledges  of  rocks,  and 
as  a  general  thing  takes  some  pains  in  its  construction.  Its 
domicile  approaches  the  eagle's  nest  in  form,  is  broad  and 
shallow,  and  made  of  sticks  and  twigs  lined  thinly  with 
dried  leaves,  mosses,  etc.  A  full-grown  female — which,  as 
I  told  you  once  before,  is  always  larger  than  the  male  among 
birds  of  prey — measures  about  twenty-six  inches  with  wings 
extended.  It  is  lead-colored  above,  and  lighter  beneath. 
You  can  easily  recognize  this  hawk  by  its  short  wings,  long 
tail,  and  swift,  irregular  flight.  One  moment  it  is  high  in 
the  air,  the  next  it  disappears  in  the  grass,  having  seized  the 
object  of  its  pursuit.  It  is  capable  of  surprisingly  sudden 
dashes,  and  its  pursuit  is  so  rapid  that  escape  is  wellnigh 
hopeless.  It  is  not  daunted  by  obstacles.  Mr.  Audubon 
saw  one  dart  into  a  thicket  of  briers,  strike  and  instantly  kill 
a  thrush,  and  emerge  with  it  on  the  opposite  side.  It  often 
makes  havoc  among  young  chickens.  One  came  every  day 
to  a  poultry-yard  until  it  had  carried  off  over  twenty.  It 
does  not  hesitate  to  pounce  down  upon  a  chicken  even  in  the 
farmer's  presence;  and  one,  in  a  headlong  pursuit,  broke 
through  the  glass  of  a  greenhouse,  then  dashed  through  an 
other  glass  partition,  and  was  only  brought  up  by  a  third. 
Pigeons  are  also  quite  in  its  line.  Indeed,  it  is  a  bold  red- 
taloned  freebooter,  and  only  condescends  to  insects  and  the 
smaller  reptiles  when  there  are  no  little  birds  at  hand. 
During  the  spring  migration  this  hawk  is  sometimes  seen 
in  large  flocks. 

"The  American  goshawk  is  the  next  bird  of  this  family 
that  I  will  mention,  and  I  am  very  glad  to  say  that  he  is 
only  a  winter  resident.  He  is  the  dreaded  blue  hen-hawk 


138  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

of  New  England,  and  is  about  twenty-three  inches  long, 
and  forty-four  from  tip  to  tip  of  wings.  One  good  authority 
says  that  for  strength,  intrepidity,  and  fury  he  cannot  be 
surpassed.  He  will  swoop  down  into  a  poultry-yard  and 
carry  off  a  chicken  almost  before  you  can  take  a  breath. 
He  is  swift,  cunning,  and  adroit  rather  than  heedless  and 
headlong,  like  the  sharp-shinned  hawk,  and  although  the 
bereaved  farmer  may  be  on  the  alert  with  his  gun,  this 
marauder  will  watch  his  chance,  dash  into  the  yard,  then 
out  again  with  his  prey,  so  suddenly  that  only  the  despair 
ing  cries  of  the  fowl  reveal  the  murderous  onslaught.  In 
western  Maine  this  hawk  is  very  common.  A  housewife 
will  hear  a  rush  of  wings  and  cries  of  terror,  and  can  only 
reach  the  door  in  time  to  see  one  of  these  robbers  sailing 
off  with  the  finest  of  her  pullets.  Hares  and  wild-ducks  are 
favorite  game  also.  The  goshawk  will  take  a  mallard  with 
perfect  ease,  neatly  and  deliberately  strip  off  the  feathers, 
and  then,  like  an  epicure,  eat  the  breast  only.  Audubon 
once  saw  a  large  flock  of  blackbirds  crossing  the  Ohio. 
Like  an  arrow  a  goshawk  darted  upon  them,  while  they, 
in  their  fright,  huddled  together.  The  hawk  seized  one 
after  another,  giving  each  a  death-squeeze,  then  dropping 
it  into  the  water.  In  thi.3  way  he  killed  five  before  the 
flock  escaped  into  the  woods.  He  then  leisurely  went  back, 
picked  them  up  one  by  one,  and  carried  them  to  the  spot 
selected  for  his  lunch.  With  us,  I  am  happy  to  say,  he  is 
shy  and  distant,  preferring  the  river  marshes  to  the  vicinity 
of  our  farmyards.  He  usually  takes  his  prey  while  swoop 
ing  swiftly  along  on  the  wing." 

"Have  we  any  hawks  similar  to  those  employed  in  the 
old-time  falconry  of  Europe?"  Webb  asked. 

"Yes;  our  duck  or  great- footed  hawk  is  almost  identical 
with  the  well-known  peregrine  falcon  of  Europe.  It  is  a 
permanent  resident,  and  breeds  on  the  inaccessible  cliffs 
of  the  Highlands,  although  preferring  similar  localities 
along  a  rocky  sea- coast.  There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that 
our  duck-hawk  might  be  trained  for  the  chase  as  readily  as 


GOSSIP   ABOUT  BIRD-NEIGHBORS  139 

its  foreign  congener.  It  has  the  same  wonderful  powers 
of  flight,  equal  docility  in  confinement,  and  can  be  taught 
to  love  and  obey  its  master.  I  have  often  wondered  why 
falconry  has  not  been  revived,  like  other  ancient  sports. 
The  Germans  are  said  to  have  employed  trained  hawks  to 
capture  carrier-pigeons  that  were  sent  out  with  missives  by 
the  French  during  the  siege  of  Paris.  In  a  few  instances  the 
duck-hawk  has  been  known  to  nest  in  trees.  It  is  a  solitary 
bird,  and  the  sexes  do  not  associate  except  at  the  breeding 
season.  While  it  prefers  water-fowl,  it  does  not  confine 
itself  to  them.  I  shot  one  on  a  Long  Island  beach  and 
found  in  its  crop  whole  legs  of  the  robin,  Alice's  thrush, 
catbird,  and  warblers.  It  measures  about  forty-five  inches 
in  the  stretch  of  its  wings,  and  its  prevailing  color  is  of 
a  dark  blue. 

"The  pigeon- hawk  is  not  very  rare  at  this  season.  Pro 
fessor  Baird  describes  this  bird  as  remarkable  for  its  rapid 
flight,  its  courage,  and  its  enterprise  in  attacking  birds  even 
larger  than  itself.  This  accords  with  my  experience,  for  my 
only  specimen  was  shot  in  the  act  of  destroying  a  hen.  He 
is  about  the  size  of  our  common  flicker,  or  high-holder, 
which  bird,  with  robins,  pigeons,  and  others  of  similar 
size,  is  his  favorite  game.  The  sparrow-hawk  is  rare  at 
this  time,  and  is  only  abundant  occasionally  during  its 
migrations.  The  red-shouldered  hawk  is  a  handsome  bird, 
with  some  very  good  traits,  and  is  a  common  permanent 
resident.  Unless  hunted,  these  birds  are  not  shy,  and 
they  remain  mated  throughout  the  year.  Many  a  human 
pair  might  learn  much  from  their  affectionate  and  consid 
erate  treatment  of  each  other.  They  do  not  trouble  poultry- 
yards,  and  are  fond  of  frogs,  cray-fish,  and  even  insects. 
Occasionally  they  will  attack  birds  as  large  as  a  ;meadow- 
lark.  They  have  a  high  and  very  irregular  flight,  but  oc 
casionally  they  so  stuff  themselves  with  frogs  that  they  can 
scarcely  move.  Wilson  found  one  with  the  remains  of  ten 
frogs  in  his  crop. 

"Last  among  the  winter  residents  I  can  merely  mention 


140  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

the  red-tailed  hawk,  so  named  from  the  deep  rufus  color 
of  its  tail  feathers.  It  is  a  heavy,  robust  bird,  and  while  it 
usually  feeds  on  mice,  moles,  and  shrews  that  abound  in 
meadows,  its  depredations  on  farmyards  are  not  infrequent. 
It  is  widely  distributed  throughout  the  continent,  and  abun 
dant  here.  It  is  a  powerful  bird,  and  can  compass  long 
distances  with  a  strong,  steady  flight,  often  moving  with 
no  apparent  motion  of  the  wings.  It  rarely  seizes  its  prey 
while  flying,  like  the  goshawk,  but  with  its  keen  vision  will 
inspect  the  immediate  vicinity  from  the  branch  of  a  tree, 
and  thence  dart  upon  it.  It  is  not  particular  as  to  its  food. 
Insects,  birds,  and  reptiles  are  alike  welcome  game,  and  in 
summer  it  may  be  seen  carrying  a  writhing  snake  through 
the  air.  While  flying  it  utters  a  very  harsh,  peculiar,  and 
disagreeable  scream,  and  by  some  is  called  the  squealing 
hawk.  The  social  habits  of  this  bird  are  in  appropriate 
concord  with  its  voice.  After  rearing  their  young  the  sexes 
separate,  and  are  jealous  of  and  hostile  to  each  other.  It 
may  easily'  happen  that  if  the  wife  of  the  spring  captures 
any  prey,  her  former  mate  will  struggle  fiercely  for  its  pos 
session,  and  the  screaming  clamor  of  the  fight  will  rival 
a  conjugal  quarrel  in  the  Bowery.  In  this  respect  they 
form  an  unpleasing  contrast  with  the  red-shouldered  hawks, 
among  whom  marriage  is  permanent,  and  maintained  with 
lover-like  attentions.  Thus  it  would  appear  that  there  are 
contrasts  of  character  even  in  the  hawk  world;  and  when 
you  remember  that  we  have  fifteen  other  varieties  of  this 
bird,  besides  the  nine  I  have  mentioned,  you  may  think 
that  nature,  like  society,  is  rather  prodigal  in  hawks.  As 
civilization  advances,  however,  innocence  stands  a  better 
chance.  At  least  this  is  true  of  the  harmless  song-birds. 

"I  have  now  given  you  free-hand  sketches  of  the  great 
majority  of  our  winter  residents,  and  these  -outlines  are 
necessarily  very  defective  from  their  brevity  as  well  as  for 
other  reasons.  I  have  already  talked  an  unconscionably  long 
time;  but  what  else  could  you  expect  from  a  man  with  a 
hobby  ?  As  it  is,  I  am  not  near  through,  for  the  queer 


GOSSIP   ABOUT   BIRD-NEIGHBORS  141 

little  white-bellied  nut-hatch,  and  his  associates  in  habits, 
the  downy,  the  hairy,  the  golden- winged,  and  the  yellow- 
bellied  woodpeckers,  and  four  species  of  owls,  are  also  with 
us  at  this  season.  With  the  bluebirds  the  great  tide  of 
migration  has  already  turned  northward,  and  all  through 
March,  April,  and  May  I  expect  to  greet  the  successive 
arrivals  of  old  friends  every  time  I  go  out  to  visit  my 
patients.  I  can  assure  you  that  I  have  no  stupid,  lonely 
drives,  unless  the  nights  are  dark  and  stormy.  Little 
Johnnie,  I  see,  has  gone  to  sleep.  I  must  try  to  meet  some 
fairies  and  banshees  in  the  moonlight  for  her  benefit.  But, 
Alf,  I'm  delighted  to  see  you  so  wide-awake.  Shooting 
birds  as  game  merely  is  very  well,  but  capturing  them  in 
a  way  to  know  all  about  them  is  a  sport  that  is  always  in 
season,  and  would  grow  more  and  more  absorbing  if  you 
lived  a  thousand  years." 

A  bent  for  life  was  probably  given  to  the  boy's  mind 
that  night. 


142  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 


CHAPTER   XVII 

FISHING   THROUGH   THE    ICE 

EVEEY  day  through  the  latter  part  of  February  the  sun 
grew  higher,  and  its  rays  more  potent.  The  snow 
gave  rapidly  in  warm  southern  nooks  and  slopes, 
and  the  icicles  lengthened  from  the  eaves  and  overhanging 
rocks,  forming  in  many  instances  beautiful  crystal  fringes. 
On  northern  slopes  and  shaded  places  the  snow  scarcely 
wasted  at  all,  and  Amy  often  wondered  how  the  vast  white 
body  that  covered  the  earth  could  ever  disappear  in  time 
for  spring.  But  there  soon  came  a  raw,  chilly,  cloudy  day, 
with  a  high  south  wind,  and  the  snow  sank  away,  increasing 
the  apparent  height  of  the  fences,  and  revealing  objects 
hitherto  hidden,  as  if  some  magic  were  at  work. 

"I  have  always  observed,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "that  a 
day  like  this,  raw  and  cold  as  it  seems,  does  more  to  carry 
off  the  snow  than  a  week  of  spring  sunshine,  although  it 
may  be  warm  for  the  season.  What  is  more,  the  snow  is 
wasted  evenly,  and  not  merely  on  sunny  slopes.  The  wind 
seems  to  soak  up  the  melting  snow  like  a  great  sponge,  for 
the  streams  are  not  perceptibly  raised." 

"The  air  does  take  it  up  the  form  of  vapor,"  said  Webb, 
"and  that  is  why  we  have  such  a  chilly  SQOW  atmosphere. 
Eapidly  melting  snow  tends  to  lower  the  temperature  pro 
portionately,  just  as  ice  around  a  form  of  cream,  when  made 
to  melt  quickly  the  addition  of  salt,  absorbs  all  heat  in  its 
vicinity  so  fast  that  the  cream  is  congealed.  But  this  ac 
cumulation  of  vapor  in  the  air  must  come  down  again, 


FISHING    THROUGH    THE   ICE  143 

perhaps  in  the  form  of  snow,  and  so  there  will  be  no  ap 
parent  gain." 

"If  no  apparent  gain,  could  there  be  a  real  gain  by  an 
other  fall  of  snow?"  Amy  asked;  for  to  inexperienced  eyes 
there  certainly  seemed  more  than  could  be  disposed  of  in 
time  for  April  flowers. 

"Yes,"   he  replied,    "a  fall  of  snow  might  make  this 
whole  section   warmer  for  a  time,   and  so   hasten  spring, 
materially.     Do  not  worry.     We  shall  have  plenty  of  snow 
storms  yet,  and  still  spring  will  be  here  practically  on  time. ' ' 

But  instead  of  snow  the  vapor- burdened  air  relieved  itself 
by  a  rain  of  several  hours'  duration,  and  in  the  morning  the 
river  that  had  been  so  white  looked  icy  and  glistening,  and 
by  the  aid  of  a  glass  was  seen  to  be  covered  with  water, 
which  rippled  under  the  rising  breeze.  The  following  night 
was  clear  and  cold,  and  the  surface  of  the  bay  became  a 
comparatively  smooth  glare  of  ice.  At  dinner  next  day 
Webb  remarked: 

"I  hear  that  they  are  catching  a  good  many  striped  bass 
through  the  ice,  and  I  learned  that  the  tide  would  be  right 
for  them  to  raise  the  nets  this  afternoon.  I  propose,  Amy, 
that  we  go  down  and  see  the  process,  and  get  some  of  the 
fish  direct  from  the  water  for  supper. ' ' 

Burt  groaned,  and  was  almost  jealous  that  during  his 
enforced  confinement  so  many  opportunities  to  take  Amy 
out  fell  naturally  to  Webb.  The  latter,  however,  was  so 
entirely  fraternal  in  his  manner  toward  the  young  girl  that 
Burt  was  ever  able  to  convince  himself  that  his  misgivings 
were  absurd. 

Webb  was  soon  ready,  and  had  provided  himself  with  his 
skates  and  a  small  sleigh  with  a  back.  When  they  arrived 
at  the  landing  he  tied  his  horse,  and  said: 

"The  ice  is  too  poor  to  drive  on  any  longer,  I  am  in 
formed,  but  perfectly  safe  still  for  foot-passengers.  As  c- 
precaution  we  will  follow  the  tracks  of  the  fishermen,  and. 
I  will  give  you  a  swift  ride  on  this  little  sledge,  in  which 
I  can  wrap  you  up  well. ' ' 


144  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

Like  most  young  men  brought  up  in  the  vicinity,  he  was 
a  good  and  powerful  skater,  and  Amy  was.  soon  enjoying 
the  exhilarating  sense  of  rapid  motion  over  the  smooth  ice, 
with  a  superb  view  of  the  grand  mountains  rising  on  either 
side  of  the  river  a  little  to  the  south.  They  soon  reached 
the  nets,  which  stretched  across  the  riyer  through  narrow 
longitudinal  cuts  so  as  to  be  at  right  angles  to  each  tide, 
with  which  the  fish  usually  swim.  These  nets  are  such  in 
shape  as  were  formerly  suspended  between  the  old-fashioned 
shad- poles,  and  are  sunk  perpendicularly  in  the  water  by 
weights  at  each  end,  so  that  the  meshes  are  expanded  nearly 
to  their  full  extent.  The  fish  swim  into  these  precisely  as 
do  the  shad,  and  in  their  attempts  to  back  out  their  gills 
catch,  and  there  they  hang. 

The  nests  are  about  twelve  feet  square,  and  the  meshes 
of  different  nets  are  from  to  and  a  half  to  five  and  a  quarter 
inches  in  size.  A  bass  of  nine  pounds'  weight  can  be 
"gilled"  in  the  ordinary  manner;  but  in  one  instance  a 
fish  weighing  one  hundred  and  two  pounds  was  caught, 
and  during  the  present  season  they  were  informed  that  a 
lucky  fisherman  at  Marlborough  had  secured  "a  52- 
pounder. "  These  heavy  fellows,  it  was  explained,  "would 
go  through  a  net  like  a  cannon-ball"  if  they  came  "head 
on,"  and  with  ordinary  speed;  but  if  they  are  playing 
around  gently,  the  swift  tide  carries  them  sidewise  into 
the  "slack  of  the  net,"  from  which  they  seem  unable  to 
escape.  There  are  usually  about  forty-five  feet  between 
the  surface  of  the  water  and  the  top  of  the  nets,  there 
fore  the  fish  are  caught  at  an  average  depth  of  fifty  feet. 
The  best  winter  fishing  is  from  December  to  March,  and  as 
many  as  one  hundred  and  seventy  pounds,  or  about  two 
hundred  bass,  have  been  taken  in  twenty-four  hours  from 
one  line  of  nets;  at  other  times  the  luck  is  very  bad,  for  the 
fish  seem  to  run  in  streaks. 

The  luck  was  exceedingly  moderate  on  the  present  occa 
sion,  but  enough  fish  were  caught  to  satisfy  Webb's  needs. 
As  they  were  watching  the  lifting  of  the  nets  and  angling 


FISHING    THROUGH   THE   ICE  145 

for  information,  they  saw  an  ice-boat  slowly  and  gracefully 
leaving  the  landing,  and  were  told  that  since  the  ice  had 
grown  thin  it  had  taken  the  place  of  the  sleigh  in  which 
the  passensers  were  conveyed  to  and  from  the  railroad  sta 
tion  on  the  further  shore.  The  wind,  being  adverse,  neces 
sitated  several  tacks,  and  on  one  of  them  the  boat  passed  so 
near  Webb  and  Amy  that  they  recognized  Mr.  Barkdale, 
the  clergyman,  who,  as  he  sped  by,  saluted  them.  When 
the  boat  had  passed  on  about  an  eighth  of  a  mile,  it  tacked 
so  suddenly  and  sharply  that  the  unwary  minister  was  rolled 
out  upon  the  ice.  The  speed  and  impetus  of  the  little  craft 
were  so  great  that  before  it  could  be  brought  up  it  was  about 
half  a  mile  away,  and  the  good  man  was  left  in  what  might 
be  a  dangerous  isolation,  for  ice  over  which  the  boat  could 
skim  in  security  might  be  very  unsafe  under  the  stationary 
weight  of  a  solidly  built  man  like  Mr.  Barkdale.  Webb 
therefore  seized  a  pole  belonging  to  one  of  the  fishermen, 
and  came  speedily  to  the  clergyman's  side.  Happily  the 
ice,  although  it  had  wasted  rapidly  from  the  action  of  the 
tide  in  that  part  of  the  river,  sustained  them  until  the  boat 
returned,  and  the  good  man  resumed  his  journey  with 
laughing  words,  by  which  he  nevertheless  conveyed  to 
Webb  his  honest  gratitude  for  the  promptness  with  which 
the  young  fellow  had  shared  his  possible  danger.  When 
Webb  returned  he  found  Amy  pale  and  agitated,  for  an 
indiscreet  fisherman  had  remarked  that  the  ice  was  "mighty 
poor  out  in  that  direction. ' ' 

"Won't  you  please  come  off  the  river  ?"  she  asked,  ner 
vously.  "I've  seen  all  I  wish. " 

"It's  perfectly  safe  here." 

"But  you  were  not  here  a  moment  since,  and  I've  no 
confidence  in  your  discretion  when  any  one  is  in  danger." 

"I  did  not  run  any  risks  worth  speaking  of." 

"I  think  you  did.  The  men  explained,  in  answer  to  my 
questions,  that  the  ice  toward  spring  becomes  honeycombed 
• — that's  the  way  they  expressed  it— and  lets  one  through 
without  much  warning.  They  also  said  the  tides  wore  it 

Vol.  1       aG 


146  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

away  underneath  about  as  fast  as  the  rain  and  sun  wasted 
the  surface." 

"Supposing  it  had  let  me  through,  I  should  have  caught 
on  the  pole,  and  so  have  easily  scrambled  out,  while  poor 
Mr.  Barkdale  would  have  been  quite  helpless." 

"Oh,  I  know  it  was  right  for  you  to  go,  and  I  know  you 
will  go  again  should  there  be  the  slightest  occasion.  There 
fore  I  am  eager  to  reach  solid  ground.  Please,  Webb." 

Her  tone  was  so  earnest  that  he  complied,  and  they  were 
soon  in  the  sleigh  again.  As  they  were  driving  up  the  hill 
she  turned  a  shy  glance  toward  him,  and  said,  hesitatingly: 
"Don't  mistake  me,  Webb.  lam  proud  to  think  that  you 
are  so  brave  and  uncalculating  at  times;  but  then  I — I  never 
like  to  think  that  you  are  in  danger.  Remember  how  very 
much  you  are  to  us  all." 

"Well,  that  is  rather  a  new  thought  to  me.  Am  I  much 
to  you?" 

"Yes,  you  are,"  she  said,  gravely  and  earnestly,  look 
ing  him  frankly  in  the  face.  "From  the  first  moment  you 
spoke  to  me  as  'sister  Amy'  you  made  the  relation  seem 
real.  And  then  your  manner  is  so  strong  and  even  that 
it's  restful  to  be  with  you.  You  may  give  one  a  terrible 
fright,  as  you  did  me  this  afternoon,  but  you  would  never 
make  one  nervous." 

His  face  flushed  with  deep  pleasure,  but  he  made  good 
her  opinion  by  quietly  changing  the  subject,  and  giving  her 
a  brisk,  bracing  drive  over  one  of  her  favorite  roads. 

All  at  the  supper  table  agreed  that  the  striped  bass  were 
delicious,  and  Burt,  as  the  recognized  sportsman  of  the  fam 
ily,  had  much  to  say  about  the  habits  of  this  fine  game  fish. 
Among  his  remarks  he  explained  that  the  "catch"  was  small 
at  present  because  the  recent  rain  and  melting  snow  had 
made  the  water  of  the  river  so  fresh  that  the  fish  had  been 
driven  back  toward  the  sea.  "But  they  reascend, "  he  said, 
"as  soon  as  the  freshet  subsides.  They  are  a  sea  fish,  and 
only  ascend  fresh-water  streams  for  shelter  in  winter,  and  to 
breed  in  spring.  They  spawn  in  May,  and  by  August  the 


FISHING    THROUGH   THE   ICE  147 

little  fish  will  weigh  a  quarter  of  a  pound.  A  good  many 
are  taken  with  seines  after  the  ice  breaks  up,  but  I  never 
had  any  luck  with  pole  and  line  in  the  river.  While 
striped  bass  are  found  all  along  the  coast  from  Florida  to 
Cape  Cod,  the  largest  fish  are  taken  between  the  latter  place 
and  Montauk  Point.  I  once  had  some  rare  sport  off  the  east 
end  of  Long  Island.  I  was  still-fishing,  with  a  pole  and 
reel,  and  fastened  on  my  hook  a  peeled  shedder  crab.  My 
line  was  of  linen,  six  hundred  feet  long,  and  no  heavier  than 
that  used  for  trout,  but  very  strong.  By  a  quick  movement 
which  an  old  bass-fisherman  taught  me  I  made  my  bait  dart 
like  an  arrow  straight  over  the  water  more  than  one  hun 
dred  feet,  my  reel  at  the  same  moment  whirling,  in  paying 
out,  as  if  it  would  fuse  from  friction.  Well,  I  soon  hooked 
a  fifty-pound  fish,  and  we  had  a  tussle  that  I  shall  never 
forget.  It  took  me  an  hour  to  tire  him  out,  and  I  had  to 
use  all  the  skill  I  possessed  to  keep  him  from,  breaking  the 
line.  It  was  rare  sport,  I  can  tell  you — the  finest  bit  of  ex 
citement  I  ever  had  fishing;"  and  the  young  fellow's  eyes 
sparkled  at  the  memory. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear  to  some,  his  mother  shared 
most  largely  in  his  enthusiasm.  The  reason  was  that,  apart 
from  the  interest  which  she  took  in  the  pleasure  of  all  her 
children,  she  lived  much  in  her  imagination,  which  was  un 
usually  strong,  and  Burt's  words  called  up  a  marine  picture 
with  an  athletic  young  fellow  in  the  foreground  all  on  the 
qui  vive,  his  blue  eyes  flashing  with  the  sparkle  and  light  of 
the  sea  as  he  matched  his  skill  and  science  against  a  crea 
ture  stronger  than  himself.  "Are  larger  bass  ever  taken 
with  rod  and  line?"  she  asked. 

"Yes,  one  weighing  seventy-five  pounds  has  been  cap 
tured.  Jupiter!  what  sport  it  must  have  been!" 

"How  big  do  they  grow,  anyhow?"  Leonard  queried. 

"To  almost  your  size,  Len,  and  that's  a  heavy  compli 
ment  to  the  bass.  They  have  been  known  to  reach  the 
weight  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds." 


148  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

PLANNING  AND   OPENING   THE   CAMPAIGN 

THE  last  day  of  February  was  clear,   cloudless,  and 
cold,  the  evening  serene  and  still.     Winter's  tem 
pestuous  course  was  run,  its  icy  breath  apparently 
had  ceased,  and  darkness  closed  on  its  quiet,  pallid  face. 

"March  came  in  like  a  lamb" — an  ominous  circumstance 
for  the  future  record  of  this  month  of  most  uncertain  weather, 
according  to  the  traditions  of  the  old  weather-prophets.  The 
sun  rose  clear  and  warm,  the  snow  sparkled  and  melted,  the 
bluebirds  rejoiced,  and  their  soft  notes  of  mutual  congratu 
lation  found  many  echoes  among  their  human  neighbors. 
By  noon  the  air  was  wonderfully  soft  and  balmy,  and 
Webb  brought  in  a  number  of  sprays  from  peach-trees  cut 
in  different  parts  of  the  place,  and  redeemed  his  promise  to 
Amy,  showing  her  the  fruit  germs,  either  green,  or  rather 
of  a  delicate  gold-color,  or  else  blackened  by  frost.  She 
was  astonished  to  find  how  perfect  the  embryo  blossom  ap 
peared  under  the  microscope.  It  needed  no  glass,  however, 
to  reveal  the  blackened  heart  of  the  bud,  and  Webb,  hav 
ing  cut  through  a  goodly  number,  remarked:  "It  would 
now  appear  as  if  nature  had  performed  a  very  important 
labor  for  us,  for  I  find  about  eight  out  of  nine  buds  killed. 
It  will  save  us  thinning  the  fruit  next  summer,  for  if  one- 
ninth  of  the  buds  mature  into  peaches  they  will  not  only 
bring  more  money,  but  will  measure  more  by  the  bushel." 
"How  can  one  peach  measure  more  than  eight  peaches  ?" 
"By  being  larger  than  the  eight.  If  all  these  buds  grew 
into  peaches,  and  were  left  on  these  slender  boughs,  the  tree 


PLANNING   AND   OPENING   THE  CAMPAIGN          149 

might  be  killed  outright  by  overbearing,  and  would  as 
suredly  be  much  injured  and  disfigured  by  broken  limbs 
and  exhaustion,  while  the  fruit  itself  would  be  so  small 
and  poor  as  to  be  unsalable.  Thousands  of  trees  annually 
perish  from  this  cause,  and  millions  of  peaches  are  either  not 
picked,  or,  if  marketed,  may  bring  the  grower  into  debt  for 
freight  and  other  expenses.  A  profitable  crop  of  peaches 
can  only  be  grown  by  careful  hand-thinning  when  they  are 
as  large  as  marbles,  unless  the  frost  does  the  work  for  us 
by  killing  the  greater  part  of  the  buds.  It  is  a  dangerous 
ally,  however,  for  our  constant  fear  is  that  it  will  destroy 
all  the  buds;  There  are  plenty  left  yet,  and  I  find  that 
cherry,  apple,  plum,  and  pear  buds  are  still  safe.  Indeed, 
there  is  little  fear  for  them  as  long  as  peach  buds  are  not 
entirely  destroyed,  for  they  are  much  hardier." 

In  the  afternoon  Burt,  who  had  become  expert  in  the 
use  of  crutches,  determined  on  an  airing,  and  invited  Amy 
to  join  him.  "I  now  intend  to  begin  giving  you  driving 
lessons,"  he  said.  "You  will  soon  acquire  entire  confi 
dence,  for  skill,  far  more  than  strength,  is  required.  As 
long  as  one  keeps  cool  and  shows  no  fear  there  is  rarely 
danger.  Horses  often  catch  their  senseless  panic  from 
their  drivers,  and,  even  when  frightened  with  good  cause, 
can  usually  be  reassured  by  a  few  quiet  words  and  a 
firm  rein." 

Amy  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  a  lesson  in  driv 
ing,  especially  as  Bart,  because  of  his  lameness,  did  not 
venture  to  take  his  over-spirited  steed  Thunder.  She  sin 
cerely  hoped,  however,  that  he  would  confine  his  thoughts 
and  attentions  to  the  ostensible  object  of  the  drive,  for  his 
manner  at  times  was  embarrassingly  ardent.  Burt  was  suf 
ficiently  politic  to  f  ulfil  her  hope,  for  he  had  many  other 
drives  in  view,  and  had  discovered  that  attentions  not  fra 
ternal  were  unwelcome  to  Amy.  With  a  self-restraint  and 
prudence  which  he  thought  most  praiseworthy  and  saga 
cious,  but  which  were  ludicrous  in  their  limitations,  he  re 
solved  to  take  a  few  weeks  to  make  the  impression  which 


150  NATURE 'IS    SERIAL    JSTUKY 

he  had  often  succeeded  in  producing  in  a  few  hours,  judg 
ing  from  the  relentings  and  favors  received  in  a  rather 
extended  career  of  gallantry,  although  it  puzzled  the  young 
fellow  that  he  could  have  been  so  fascinated  on  former  oc 
casions.  He  merely  proposed  that  now  she  should  enjoy 
the  drive  so  thoroughly  that  she  would  wish  to  go  again, 
and  his  effort  met  with  entire  success. 

During  the  first  week  of  March  there  were  many  indica 
tions  of  the  opening  campaign  on  the  Clifford  farm.  There 
was  the  overhauling  and  furbishing  of  weapons,  otherwise 
tools,  and  the  mending  or  strengthening  of  those  in  a  de 
crepit  state.  A  list  of  such  additional  ones  as  were  wanted 
was  made  at  this  time,  and  an  order  sent  for  them  at  once. 
Amy  also  observed  that  practical  Leonard  was  conning  sev 
eral  catalogues  of  implements.  "Len  is  always  on  the  scent 
of  some  new  patent  hoe  or  cultivator,"  Burt  remarked. 
"My  game  pays  better  than  yours,"  was  the  reply,  "for  the 
right  kind  of  tools  about  doubles  the  effectiveness  of  labor." 

The  chief  topic  of  discussion  and  form  of  industry  at  this 
time  were  the  pruning  and  cleansing  of  trees,  and  Amy  often 
observed  Webb  from  her  windows  in  what  seemed  to  her 
most  perilous  positions  in  the  tops  of  apple  and  other  trees, 
with  saw  and  pruning  shears  or  nippers — a  light  little  in 
strument  with  such  a  powerful  leverage  that  a  good-sized 
bough  could  be  lopped  away  by  one  slight  pressure  of  the 
hand. 

"It  seems  to  me,"  remarked  Leonard,  one  evening,  "that 
there  is  much  diversity  of  opinion  in  regard  to  the  time  and 
method  of  trimming  trees.  While  the  majority  of  our  neigh 
bors  prune  in  March,  some  say  fall  or  winter  is  the  best  time. 
Others  are  in  favor  of  June,  and  in  some  paper  I've  read, 
'Prune  when  your  knife  is  sharp.'  As  for  cleansing  the 
bark  of  the  trees,  very  few  take  the  trouble.'1 

"Well,"  replied  his  father,  "I've  always  performed  these 
labors  in  March  with  good  results.  I  have  often  observed 
that  taking  off  large  limbs  from  old  and  feeble  trees  is  apt 
to  injure  them.  A  decay  begins  at  the  point  of  amputation 


PLANNING  AND   OPENING   THE  CAMPAIGN  151 

and  extends  down  into  the  body  of  the  tree.  Sap-suckers 
and  other  wood-peckers,  in  making  their  nests,  soon  exca 
vate  this  rotten  wood  back  into  the  trunk,  to  which  the 
moisture  of  every  storm  is  admitted,  and  the  life  of  the 
tree  is  shortened." 

At  this  point  Webb  went  out,  and  soon  returned  with 
something  like  exultation  blending  with  his  usually  grave 
expression. 

"I  think  father's  views  are  correct,  and  I  have  confirma 
tion  here  in  autograph  letters  from  three  of  the  most  emi 
nent  horticulturists  in  the  world — " 

"Good  gracious,  Webb!  don't  take  away  our  breath  in 
that  style,"  exclaimed  Burt.  "Have  you  autograph  letters 
from  several  autocrats  also?" 

As  usual  Webb  ignored  his  brother's  nonsense,  and  re 
sumed:  "The  first  is  from  the  Hon.  Marshall  P.  Wilder, 
President  of  the  American  Pomological  Society,  and  is  as 
follows:  'I  prune  my  trees  early  in  March,  as  soon  as  the 
heavy  frosts  are  over,  when  the  sap  is  dormant.  If  the 
branch  is  large  I  do  not  cut  quite  close  in,  and  recut  close 
in  June,  when  the  wound  heals  more  readily.  I  do  not  ap 
prove  of  rigorous  pruning  of  old  trees  showing  signs  of  fee 
bleness.  Such  operations  would  increase  decline — only  the 
dead  wood  should  be  removed,  the  loss  of  live  wood  depriv 
ing  old  trees  of  the  supply  of  sap  which  they  need  for  sup 
port.  Graf  ting- wax  is  good  to  cover  the  wounds  of  trees,  or 
a  thick  paint  of  the  color  of  the  bark  answers  well.  Trees 
also  may  be  pruned  in  safety  in  Jane  after  the  first  growth 
is  made — then  the  wounds  heal  quickly.' 

"The  next  letter  is  from  Mr.  Charles  Downing,  editor  of 
'The  Fruits  and  Fruit- Trees  of  America.'  'When  the  ex 
treme  cold  weather  is  over,'  he  says,  'say  the  last  of  Febru 
ary  or  first  of  March,  begin  to  trim  trees,  and  finish  as 
rapidly  as  convenient.  Do  not  trim  a  tree  too  much  at  one 
time,  and  cut  no  large  limbs  if  possible,  but  thin  out  the 
small  branches.  If  the  trees  are  old  and  bark-bound,  scrape 
off  the  roughest  bark  and  wash  the  bodies  and  large  limbs 


152  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

with  whale-oil  soap,  or  soft-soap  such  as  the  farmers  make, 
putting  it  on  quite  thick.  Give  the  ground  plenty  of  com 
post  manure,  bone-dust,  ashes,  and  salt.  The  best  and  most 
convenient  preparation  for  covering  wounds  is  gum-shellac 
dissolved  in  alcohol  to  the  thickness  of  paint,  and  put  on 
with  a  brush. '  The  last  is  from  Mr.  Patrick  Barry,  of  the 
eminent  .Rochester  firm,  and  author  of  'The  Fruit  Garden.' 
'In  our  climate  pruning  may  be  done  at  convenience,  from 
the  fall  of  the  leaf  until  the  1st  of  April.  In  resuscitating 
old  neglected  apple-trees,  rigorous  pruning  may  be  combined 
with  plowing  and  manuring  of  the  ground.  For  covering 
wounds  made  in  pruning,  nothing  is  better  than  common 
grafting- wax  laid  on  warm  with  a  brush.'  Hon  P.  T.  Quinn, 
in  his  work  on  'Pear  Culture,'  writes:  'On  our  own  place 
we  begin  to  prune  our  pear-trees  from  the  1st  to  the  loth  of 
March,  and  go  on  with  the  work  through  April.  It  is  not 
best  to  do  much  cutting,  except  on  very  young  trees,  while 
the  foliage  is  coming  out.'  1 

"Well,"  remarked  Leonard,  "I  can  go  to  work  to-morrow 
with  entire  content;  and  very  pleasant  work  it  is,  too,  espe 
cially  on  the  young  trees,  where  by  a  little  forethought  and 
a  few  cuts  one  can  regulate  the  form  and  appearance  of  the 
future  tree." 

"How  is  that  possible?"  Amy  asked. 

"Well,  you  see  there  are  plenty  of  buds  on  all  the  young 
branches,  and  we  can  cut  a  branch  just  above  the  bud  we 
wish  to  grow  which  will  continue  to  grow  in  the  direction  in 
which  it  points.  Thus  we  can  shape  each  summer's  growth 
in  any  direction  we  choose. ' ' 

"How  can  you  be  sure  to  find  a  bud  just  where  you 
want  it?" 

"I  know  we  always  do." 

"Of  course  we  do,"  said  Webb,  "for  buds  are  arranged 
spirally  on  trees  in  mathematical  order.  On  most  trees  it  is 
termed  the  'five-ranked  arrangement,'  and  every  bud  is  just 
two-fifths  of  the  circumference  of  the  stem  from  the  next 
This  will  bring  every  sixth  bud  or  leaf  over  the  first,  or  the 


PLANNING   AND  OPENING   THE  CAMPAIGN          153 

one  we  start  with.  Thus  in  the  length  of  stem  occupied  by 
five  buds  you  have  buds  facing  in  five  different  directions 
— plenty  of  choice  for  all  pruning  purposes." 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Webb;  you  are  too  everlastingly  scien 
tific.  Buds  and  leaves  are  scattered  at  haphazard  all  over 
the  branches." 

"That  shows  you  observe  at  haphazard.  Wait,  and  I'll 
prove  I'm  right;"  and  he  seized  his  hat  and  went  out. 
Eeturning  after  a  few  minutes  with  long,  slender  shoots  of 
peach,  apple,  and  pear  trees,  he  said:  "Now  put  your  finger 
on  any  bud,  and  count.  See  if  the  sixth  bud  does  not  stand 
invariably  over  the  one  you  start  from,  and  if  the  interven 
ing  buds  do  not  wind  spirally  twice  around  the  stem,  each 
facing  in  a  different  direction." 

The  result  proved  Webb  to  be  right.  He  laughed,  and 
said:  "There,  Len,  you've  seen  buds  and  branches  for  over 
forty  years,  and  never  noticed  this.  Here,  Alf,  you  begin 
right,  and  learn  to  see  things  just  as  they  are.  There's  no 
telling  how  often  accurate  knowledge  may  be  useful." 

"But,  Webb,  all  plants  have  not  the  five-ranked  arrange 
ment,  as  you  term  it,"  his  mother  protested. 

"Oh,  no.  There  is  the  two-ranked,  in  which  the  third 
leaf  stands  over  the  first;  the  three-ranked,  in  which  the 
fourth  leaf  stands  over  the  first.  Then  we  also  find  the 
eighth  and  thirteenth  ranked  arrangements,  according  to 
the  construction  of  various  species  of  plants  or  trees.  But 
having  once  observed  an  arrangement  of  buds  or  leaves  in  a 
species,  you  will  find  it  maintained  with  absolute  symmetry 
and  accuracy,  although  the  spaces  between  the  buds  length 
wise  upon  the  stem  may  vary  very  mnch.  Nature,  with  all 
her  seeming  carelessness  and  abandon,  works  on  strict  math 
ematical  principles." 

"Well,"  said  Alf,  "I'm  going  to  see  if  you  are  right  to 
morrow.  I  don't  half  believe  you  are."  And  on  the  fol 
lowing  day  he  tried  his  best  to  prove  Webb  wrong,  but 
failed. 

Before  the  weeks  was  over  there  was  a  decided  return  of 


154  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

winter.  The  sky  lost  its  spring-like  blue.  Cold,  ragged 
clouds  were  driven  wildly  by  a  northeast  gale,  which,  pene 
trating  the  heaviest  wraps,  caused  a  shivering  sense  of  dis 
comfort.  Only  by  the  most  vigorous  exercise  could  one 
cope  with  the  raw,  icy  wind,  and  yet  the  effort  to  do  so 
brought  a  rich  return  in  warm,  purified  blood.  All  out 
door  labor, '  except  such  as  required  strong,  rapid  action, 
came  to  an  end,  for  it  was  the  very  season  and  opportunity 
for  pneumonia  to  seize  upon  its'  chilled  victim.  To  a  family 
constituted  like  the  Cliffords  such  weather  brought  no  ennui, 
They  had  time  for  more  music  and  reading  aloud  than  usual. 
The  pets  in  the  flower-room  needed  extra  care  and  watching, 
for  the  bitter  wind  searched  out  every  crevice  and  cranny. 
Entering  the  dining-room  on  one  occasion,  Amy  found  the 
brothers  poring  over  a  map  spread  out  on  the  table. 

"What!  studying  geography ?"  she  said.  "It  certainly 
is  a  severe  stress  of  weather  that  has  brought  you  all  to  that. 
What  countries  are  you  exploring?" 

"These  are  our  Western  Territories,"  Burt  promptly  re 
sponded.  "This  prominent  point  here  is  Fort  Totem,  and 
these  indications  of  adjacent  buildings  are  for  the  storage 
of  furs,  bear-meat,  and  the  accommodation  of  Indian  hunt 
ers."  Burt  tried  to  look  serious,  but  Webb's  and  Leonard's 
laughter  betrayed  him.  Amy  turned  inquiringly  to  Webb, 
as  she  ever  did  when  perplexed. 

"Don't  mind  Burt's  chaff,"  he  said.  "This  is  merely  a 
map  of  the  farm,  and  we  are  doing  a  little  planning  for  our 
spring  work — deciding  what  crop  we  shall  put  on  that  field 
and  how  treat  this  one,  etc.  You  can  see,  Amy,  that  each 
field  is  numbered,  and  here  in  this  book  are  corresponding 
numbers,  with  a  record  of  the  crops  grown  upon  each  field 
for  a  good  many  years  back,  to  what  extent  and  how  often 
they  have  been  enriched,  and  the  kind  of  fertilizers  used. 
Of  course  such  a  book  of  manuscript  would  be  the  dreari 
est  prose  in  the  world  to  you,  but  it  is  exceedingly  interest 
ing  to  us;  and  what's  more,  these  past  records  are  the  best 
possible  guides  for  future  action." 


PLANNING  AND  OPENING  THE  CAMPAIGN          155 

"Oh,  I  know  all  about  your  book  now,"  she  said,  with 
an  air  of  entire  confidence,  "for  I've  heard  papa  say  that 
land  and  crop  records  have  been  kept  in  England  for  genera 
tions.  I  don't  think  I  will  sit  up  nights  to  read  your  manu 
script,  however.  If  Burt's  version  had  been  true,  it  might 
have  been  quite  exciting. ' ' 

She  did  enjoy  aiding  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford  in  overhaul 
ing  the  seed-chest,  however.  This  was  a  wooden  box,  all 
tinned  over  to  keep  out  the  mice,  and  was  divided  into  many 
little  compartments,  in  which  were  paper  bags  of  seeds,  with 
the  date  on  which  they  were  gathered  or  purchased.  Some 
of  the  seeds  were  condemned  because  too  old;  others,  like 
those  of  melons  and  cucumbers,  improved  with  a  moderate 
degree  of  age,  she  was  told.  Mrs.  Clifford  brought  out  from 
her  part  of  the  chest  a  rich  store  of  flower  seeds,  and  the 
young  girl  looked  with  much  curiosity  on  the  odd-appearing 
little  grains  and  scale-like  objects  in  which,  in  miniature, 
was  wrapped  some  beautiful  and  fragrant  plant.  "Queer 
little  promises,  ain't  they?"  said  the  old  lady;  "for  every 
seed  is  a  promise  to  me." 

"I  tell  you  what  it  is,  Amy,"  the  old  gentleman  re 
marked,  "this  chest  contains  the  assurance  of  many  a  good 
dinner  and  many  a  beautiful  bouquet.  Now,  like  a  good 
girl,  help  us  make  an  inventory.  We  will  first  have  a  list 
of  what  we  may  consider  trustworthy  seeds  on  hand,  and 
then,  with  the  aid  of  these  catalogues,  we  can  make  out 
another  list  of  what  we  shall  buy.  Seed  catalogues,  with 
their  long  list  of  novelties,  never  lose  their  fascination  for 
me.  I  know  that  most  of  the  new  things  are  not  half  so 
good  as  the  old  tried  sorts,  but  still  I  like  to  try  some  every 
year.  It's  a  harmless  sort  of  gambling,  you  see,  and  now 
and  then  I  draw  a  genuine  prize.  Mother  has  the  gambling 
mania  far  worse  than  I,  as  is  evident  from  the  way  she  goes 
into  the  flower  novelties. " 

"I  own  up  to  it,"  said  Mrs.  Clifford,  "and  I  do  love  to 
see  the  almost  endless  diversity  in  beauty  which  one  species 
of  plants  will  exhibit.  Why,  do  you  know,  Amy,  I  grew 


156  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

from  seeds  one  summer  fifty  distinct  varieties  of  the  dian- 
thus.  Suppose  we  take  asters  this  year,  and  see  how  many 
distinct  kinds  we  can  grow.  Here,  in  this  catalogue,  is  a 
long  list  of  named  varieties,  and,  in  addition,  there  are 
packages  of  mixed  seeds  from  which  we  may  get  something 
distinct  from  all  the  others." 

"How  full  of  zest  life  becomes  in  the  country,"  cried 
Amy,  "if  one  only  goes  to  work  in  the  right  way!"  Life 
was  growing  fuller  and  richer  to  her  every  day  in  the  varied 
and  abounding  interests  of  the  family  with  which  she  was 
now  entirely  identified. 

"Webb,"  his  mother  asked  at  dinner,  "how  do  you  ex 
plain  the  varying  vitality  of  seeds?  Some  we  can  keep  six 
or  eight  years,  and  others  only  two." 

"That's  a  question  I  am  unable  to  answer.  It  cannot 
be  the  amount  of  material  stored  up  in  the  cotyledons,  or 
embryo  seed  leaves,  for  small  seeds  like  the  beet  and  cucum 
ber  will  retain  their  vitality  ten  years,  and  lettuce,  turnip, 
and  tomato  seed  five  or  more  years,  while  I  do  not  care  to 
plant  large,  fleshy  seeds  like  pease  and  beans  that  are  over 
three  years  old,  and  much  prefer  those  gathered  the  previ 
ous  season.  The  whole  question  of  the  germinating  of  seeds 
is  a  curious  one.  Wheat  taken  from  the  wrappings  of  an 
Egyptian  mummy  has  grown.  Many  seeds  appear  to  have 
a  certain  instinct  when  to  grow,  and  will  lie  dormant  in  the 
ground  for  indefinite  periods  waiting  for  favorable  condi 
tions.  For  instance,  sow  wood-ashes  copiously  and  you 
speedily  have  a  crop  of  white  clover.  Again,  when  one 
kind  of  timber  is  cut  from  land,  another  and  diverse  kind 
will  spring  up,  as  if  the  soil  were  full  of  seeds  that  had  been 
biding  their  time.  For  all  practical  purposes  the  duration 
of  vitality  is  known,  and  is  usually  given  in  seed  catalogues, 
I  think,  or  ought  to  be." 

"Some  say  that  certain  fertilizers  or  conditions  will  pro 
duce  certain  kinds  of  vegetation  without  the  aid  of  seeds 
— just  develop  them,  you  know,"  Leonard  remarked. 

"Develop  them  from  what?" 


PLANNING   AND  OPENING   THE  CAMPAIGN  157 

"That's  the  question." 

"Well,  I  think  the  sensible  answer  is  that  all  vegetation 
is  developed  from  seeds,  spores,  or  whatever  was  designed  to 
continue  the  chain  of  being  from  one  plant  to  another.  For 
the  life  of  me  I  can't  see  how  mere  organic  or  inorganic 
matter  can  produce  life.  It  can  only  sustain  and  nourish 
the  life  which  exists  in  it  or  is  placed  in  it,  and  which  by  a 
law  of  nature  develops  when  the  conditions  are  favorable. 
I  am  quite  sure  that  there  is  not  an  instance  on  record  of 
the  spontaneous  production  of  life,  even  down  to  the  small 
est  animalcule  in  liquids,  or  the  minutest  plant  life  that  is 
propagated  by  invisible  spores.  That  the  microscope  does 
not  reveal  these  spores  or  germs  proves  nothing,  for  the 
strongest  microscope  in  the  world  has  not  begun  to  reach 
the  final  atom  of  which  matter  is  composed.  Indeed,  it 
Would  seem  to  be  as  limited  in  its  power  to  explore  the  infi 
nitely  little  and  near  as  the  telescope  to  reveal  the  infinitely 
distant  and  great.  Up  to  this  time  science  has  discovered 
nothing  to  contravene  the  assurance  that  God,  or  some  one, 
'created  every  living  creature  that  moveth,  and  every  herb 
yielding  seed  after  his  kind.'  After  a  series  of  most  careful 
and  accurate  experiments,  Professor  Tyndall  could  find  no 
proof  of  the  spontaneous  production  of  even  microscopic 
life,  and  found  much  proof  to  the  contrary.  How  far  origi 
nal  creations  are  changed  or  modified  by  evolution,  natural 
selection,  is  a  question  that  is  to  be  settled  neither  by  dog 
matism  on  the  one  hand,  nor  by  baseless  theories  on  the 
other,  but  by  facts,  and  plenty  of  them." 

"Do  you  think  there  is  anything  atheistical  in  evolu 
tion?"  his  mother  asked,  and  with  some  solicitude  in  her 
large  eyes,  for,  like  all  trained  in  the  old  beliefs,  she  felt 
that  the  new  philosophies  led  away  into  a  realm  of  vague 
negations.  Webb  understood  her  anxiety  lest  the  faith  she 
had  taught  him  should  become  unsettled,  and  he  reassured 
her  in  a  characteristic  way. 

"No,  mother,"  he  said.  "If  evolution  is  the  true  expla 
nation  of  the  world,  as  it  now  appears  to  us,  it  is  no  more 


158  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

atheistical  than  some  theologies  I  have  heard  preached, 
which  contained  plenty  of  doctrines  and  attributes,  but  no 
God.  If  God  with  his  infinite  leisure  chooses  to  evolve  his 
universe,  why  shouldn't  he?  In  any  case  a  creative,  intel 
ligent  power  is  equally  essential.  It  would  be  just  as  easy 
for  me  to  believe  that  all  the  watches  and  jewelry  at 
Tiffany's  were  the  result  of  fortuitous  causes  as  to  believe 
that  the  world  as  we  find  it  has  no  mind  back  of  it." 

Mother  smiled  with  satisfaction,  for  she  saw  that 
he  still  stood  just  where  she  did,  only  his  horizon  had 
widened. 

"Well,"  said  his  father,  contentedly,  "I  read  much  in 
the  papers  and  magazines  of  theories  and  isms  of  which 
I  never  heard  when  I  was  young,  but  eighty  years  of  ex 
perience  have  convinced  me  that  the  Lord  reigns." 

They  all  laughed  at  this  customary  settlement  of  knotty 
problems,  on  the  part  of  the  old  gentleman,  and  Burt,  rising 
from  the  table,  looked  out,  with  the  remark  that  the  pros 
pects  were  that  "the  Lord  would  rain  heavily  that  after 
noon."  The  oldest  and  most  infallible  weather-prophet  in 
the  region— Storm  King — was  certainly  giving  portentous 
indications  of  a  storm  of  no  ordinary  dimensions.  The 
vapor  was  pouring  over  its  summit  in  Niagara-like  volume, 
and  the  wind,  no  longer  rushing  with  its  recent  boisterous 
roar,  was  moaning  and  sighing  as  if  nature  was  in  pain  and 
trouble.  The  barometer,  which  had  been  low  for  two  days, 
sank  lower;  the  temperature  rose  as  the  gale  veered  to  the 
eastward.  This  fact,  and  the  moisture-laden  atmosphere, 
indicated  that  it  came  from  the  Gulf  Stream  region  of  the 
Atlantic.  The  rain,  which  began  with  a  fine  drizzle,  in 
creased  fast,  and  soon  fell  in  blinding  sheets.  The  day 
grew  dusky  early,  and  the  twilight  was  brief  and  obscure; 
then  followed  a  long  night  of  Egyptian  darkness,  through 
which  the  storm  rushed,  warred,  and  splashed  with  increas 
ing  vehemence.  Before  the  evening  was  over,  the  sound  of 
tumultuously  flowing  water  became  an  appreciable  element 
in  the  uproar  without,  and  Webb,  opening  a  window  on  the 


159 

sheltered  side  of  the  house,  called  Amy  to  hear  the  torrents 
pouring  down  the  sides  of  Storm  King. 

"What  tremendous  alternations  of  mood  Nature  indulges 
in !"  she  said,  as  she  came  shivering  back  to  the  fire.  "Con 
trast  such  a  night  with  a  sunny  June  day." 

"It  would  seem  as  if  'mild,  ethereal  spring'  had  got  her 
back  up,"  Burt  remarked,  "and  regarding  the  return  of 
winter  as  a  trespass,  had  taken  him  by  the  throat,  deter 
mined  to  have  it  out  once  for  all.  Something  will  give  way 
before  morning,  probably  half  our  bridges." 

"Well,  that  is  a  way  of  explaining  the  jar  among  the 
elements  that  I  had  not  thought  of,"  she  said,  laughing. 

"You  needn't  think  Webb  can  do  all  the  explaining.  I 
have  my  theories  also — sounder  than  his,  too,  most  of  'em." 

"There  is  surely  no  lack  of  sound  accompanying  your 
theory  to-night.  Indeed,  it  is  not  all  'sound  and  fury!'  " 

"It's  all  the  more  impressive,  then.  What's  the  use  of 
your  delicate,  weak-backed  theories  that  require  a  score 
of  centuries  to  substantiate  them?" 

"Your  theory  about  the  bridges  will  soon  be  settled," 
remarked  Leonard,  ominously,  "and  I  fear  it  will  prove 
correct.  At  this  rate  the  town  will  have  to  pay  for  half 
a  dozen  new  ones — bridges,  I  mean.'' 

"Well  amended,"  added  Webb. 

:'Just  hear  the  rain!"  said  Leonard,  ruefully.  There 
was  a  heavy  body  of  snow  still  in  the  mountains  and  on 
northern  slopes,  and  much  ice  on  the  streams  and  ponds. 
"There  certainly  will  be  no  little  trouble  if  this  continues." 

"Don't  worry,  children,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  quietly. 
"I  have  generally  found  everything  standing  after  the 
storms  were  over." 


160  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WINTER'S  EXIT 

THE  old  house  seemed  so  full  of  strange  sounds  that 
Amy  found  it  impossible  to  sleep.  Seasoned  as  were 
its  timbers,  they  creaked  and  groaned,  and  the  case 
ments  rattled  as  if  giant  hands  were  seeking  to  open  them. 
The  wind  at  times  would  sigh  and  sob  so  mournfully,  like 
a  human  voice,  that  her  imagination  peopled  the  darkness 
with  strange  creatures  in  distress,  and  then  she  would  shud 
der  as  a  more  violent  gust  raised  the  prolonged  wail  into  a 
loud  shriek.  Thoughts  of  her  dead  father — not  the  resigned, 
peaceful  thoughts  which  the  knowledge  of  his  rest  had 
brought  of  late — came  surging  into  her  mind.  Her  organi 
zation  was  peculiarly  fine  and  especially  sensitive  to  excited 
atmospherical  conditions,  and  the  tumult  of  the  night  raised 
in  her  mind  an  irrepressible,  although  unreasoning,  panic. 
At  last  she  felt  that  she  would  scream  if  she  remained  alone 
any  longer.  She  put  on  her  wrapper,  purposing  to  ask  Mrs. 
Leonard  to  come  and  stay  with  her  for  a  time,  feeling  as 
sured  that  if  she  could  only  speak  to  some  one,  the  horrid 
spell  of  nervous  fear  would  be  broken.  As  she  stepped  into 
the  hall  she  saw  a  light  gleaming  from  the  open  door  of  the 
sitting-room,  and  in  the  hope  that  some  one  was  still  up, 
she  stole  noiselessly  down  the  stairway  to  a  point  that  com 
manded  a  view  of  the  apartment.  Only  Webb  was  there, 
and  he  sat  quietly  reading  by  the  shaded  lamp  and  flicker 
ing  tire.  The  scene  and  his  very  attitude  suggested  calm 
ness  and  safety.  There  was  nothing  to  be  afraid  of,  and 
he  was  not  afraid.  With  every  moment  that  she  watched 


WINTERS   EXIT  161 

Mm  the  nervous  agitation  passed  from  mind  and  body. 
His  strong,  intent  profile  proved  that  he  was  occupied 
wholly  with  the  thought  of  his  author.  The  quiet  delib 
eration  with  which  he  turned  the  leaves  was  more 
potent  than  soothing  words.  "I  wouldn't  for  the  world 
have  him  know  I'm  so  weak  and  foolish,"  she  said  to  her 
self,  as  she  crept  noiselessly  back  to  her  room.  "He  little 
dreamed  who  was  watching  him,"  she  whispered,  smilingly, 
as  she  dropped  asleep. 

When  she  waked  next  morning  the  rain  had  ceased,  the 
wind  blew  in  fitful  gusts,  and  the  sky  was  still  covered  with 
wildly  hurrying  clouds  that  seemed  like  the  straggling  rear 
guard  which  the  storm  had  left  behind.  So  far  as  she  could 
see  from  her  window,  everything  was  still  standing,  as  Mr. 
Clifford  had  said.  Familiar  objects  greeted  her  re-assuringly, 
and  never  before  had  the  light  even  of  a  lowering  morning 
seemed  more  blessed  in  contrast  with  the  black,  black  night. 
As  she  recalled  the  incidents  of  that  night — her  nervous 
panic,  and  the  scene  which  had  brought  quiet  and  peace — " 
she  smiled  again,  and,  it  must  be  admitted,  blushed  slightly. 
"I  wonder  if  he  affects  others  as  he  does  me,"  she  thought. 
"Papa  used  to  say,  when  I  was  a  little  thing,  that  I  was  just 
a  bundle  of  nerves,  but  when  Webb  is  near  I  am  not  con 
scious  I  ever  had  a  nerve. ' ' 

Every  little  brook  had  become  a  torrent;  Moodna  Creek 
was  reported  to  be  in  angry  mood,  and  the  family  hastened 
through  breakfast  that  they  might  drive  out  to  see  the 
floods  and  the  possible  devastation.  Several  bridges  over 
the  smaller  streams  had  barely  escaped,  and  the  Idlewild 
brook,  whose  spring  and  summer  music  the  poet  Willis  had 
caused  to  be  heard  even  in  other  lands,  now  gave  forth  a 
hoarse  roar  from  the  deep  glen  through  which  it  raved. 
An  iron  bridge  over  the  Moodna,  on  the  depot  road,  had 
evidently  been  in  danger  in  the  night.  The  ice  had  been 
piled  up  in  the  road  at  each  end  of  the  bridge,  and  a  cottage 
a  little  above  it  was  surrounded  by  huge  cakes.  The  in 
mates  had  realized  their  danger,  for  part  of  their  furniture 


162  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

had  been  carried  to  higher  ground.  Although  the  volume 
of  water  passing  was  still  immense,  all  danger  was  now 
over.  As  they  were  looking  at  the  evidences  of  the  violent 
breaking  up  of  winter,  the  first  phoebe-bird  of  the  season 
alighted  in  a  tree  overhanging  the  torrent,  and  in  her  plain 
tive  notes  seemed  to  say.  as  interpreted  by  John  Burroughs, 
"If  you  please,  spring  has  come."  They  gave  the  brown 
little  harbinger  such  an  enthusiastic  welcome  that  she 
speedily  took  flight  to  the  further  shore. 

"Where  was  that  wee  bit  of  life  last  night?"  said 
Webb;  "and  how  could  it  keep  up  heart?" 

"Possibly  it  looked  in  at  a  window  and  saw  some  one 
reading,"  thought  Amy;  and  she  smiled  so  sweetly  at  the 
conceit  that  Webb  asked,  "How  many  pennies  will  you  take 
for  your  thoughts  ?" 

"They  are  not  in  the  market;"  and  she  laughed  outright 
as  she  turned  away. 

"The  true  place  to  witness  the  flood  will  be  at  the  old 
red  bridge  further  down  the  stream,"  said  Leonard;  and 
they  drove  as  rapidly  as  the  bad  wheeling  permitted  to  that 
point,  and  found  that  Leonard  was  right.  Just  above  the 
bridge  was  a  stone  dam,  by  which  the  water  was  backed  up 
a  long  distance,  and  a  precipitous  wooded  bank  rose  on  the 
south  side.  This  had  shielded  the  ice  from  the  sun,  and  it 
was  still  very  thick  when  the  pressure  of  the  flood  came 
upon  it.  Up  to  this  time  it  had  not  given  way,  and  had 
become  the  cause  of  an  ice-gorge  that  every  moment  grew 
more  threatening.  The  impeded  torrent  chafed  and  ground 
the  cakes  together,  surging  them  up  at  one  point  and  per 
mitting  them  to  sink  at  another,  as  the  imprisoned  waters 
struggled  for  an  outlet.  The  solid  ice  still  held  near  the 
edge  of  the  dam,  although  it  was  beginning  to  lift  and  crack 
with  the  tawny  flood  pouring  over,  under,  and  around  it. 

"Suppose  we  cross  to  the  other  side,  nearest  home,"  said 
Burt,  who  was  driving;  and  with  the  word  he  whipped  up 
the  horses  and  dashed  through  the  old  covered  structure. 

"You  ought  not  to  have  done  that,  Burt,"  said  Webb, 


WINTERS    EXIT  163 

almost  sternly.  "The  gorge  may  give  way  at  any  moment, 
and  the  bridge  will  probably  go  with  it.  We  shall  now  have 
to  drive  several  hundred  yards  to  a  safe  place  to  leave  the 
horses,  for  the  low  ground  on  this  side  will  probably  be 
flooded." 

"It  certainly  will  be,"  added  Leonard. 

"Oh,  make  haste!"  cried  Amy;  and  they  all  noticed 
that  she  was  trembling. 

But  a  few  minutes  sufficed  to  tie  the  horses  and  return 
to  a  point  of  safety  near  the  bridge.  "I  did  not  mean  to 
expose  you  to  the  slightest  danger,"  Burt  whispered,  ten 
derly,  to  Amy.  "See,  the  bridge  is  safe  enough,  and  we 
might  drive  over  it  again." 

Even  as  he  spoke  there  was  a  long  grinding,  crunching 
sound.  A  great  volume  of  black  water  had  forced  its  way 
under  the  gorge,  and  now  lifted  it  bodily  over  the  dam. 
It  sank  in  a  chaotic  mass,  surged  onward  and  upward  again, 
struck  the  bridge,  and  in  a  moment  lifted  it  from  its  fouada- 
tions  and  swept  it  away,  a  shattered  wreck,  the  red  covering 
showing  in  the  distance  like  ensanguined  stains  among  the 
tossing  cakes  of  ice. 

They  all  drew  a  long  breath,  and  Amy  was  as  pale  as  if 
she  had  witnessed  the  destruction  of  some  living  creature. 
No  doubt  she  realized  what  would  have  been  their  fate  had 
the  break  occurred  while  they  were  crossing. 

"Good-by,  old  bridge,"  said  Leonard,  pensively.  "I 
played  and  fished  under  you  when  a  boy,  and  in  the 
friendly  dusk  of  its  cover  1  kissed  Maggie  one  summer 
afternoon  of  our  courting  days — " 

"Well,  well,"  exclaimed  Burt,  "the  old  bridge's  exit 
has  been  a  moving  object  in  every  sense,  since  it  has  evoked 
such  a  flood  of  sentiment  from  Len.  Let  us  take  him  home 
to  Maggie  at  once." 

As  they  were  about  to  depart  they  saw  Dr.  Marvin  driv 
ing  down  to  the  opposite  side,  and  they  mockingly  beckoned 
him  to  cross  the  raging  torrent.  He  shook  his  head  rue 
fully,  and  returned  up  the  hill  again.  A  rapid  drive 


164  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

through  the  Moodna  Valley  brought  them  to  the  second 
bridge,  which  would  evidently  escape,  for  the  fiats  above 
it  were  covered  with  debris  and  ice,  and  the  main  channel 
was  sufficiently  clear  to  permit  the  flood  to  pass  harmlessly 
on.  They  then  took  the  river  road  homeward. 

The  bridge  over  the  Idlewild  brook,  near  its  entrance 
into  the  Moodna,  was  safe,  although  it  had  a  narrow  graze. 
They  also  found  that  the  ice  in  the  river  at  the  mouth  of  the 
creek  had  been  broken  up  in  a  wide  semicircle,  and  as  they 
ascended  a  hill  that  commanded  an  extensive  view  of  New- 
burgh  Bay  they  saw  that  the  ice  remaining  had  a  black, 
sodden  appearance. 

"It  will  all  break  up  in  a  few  hours,"  said  Burt,  "and 
then  hurrah  for  duck-shooting!" 

Although  spring  had  made  such  a  desperate  onset  the 
previous  night,  it  seemed  to  have  gained  but  a  partial  ad 
vantage  over  winter.  The  weather  continued  raw  and  blus 
tering  for  several  days,  and  the  overcast  sky  permitted  but 
chance  and  watery  gleams  of  sunshine.  Slush  and  mud 
completed  the  ideal  of  the  worst  phase  of  March.  The  sur 
face  of  the  earth  had  apparently  returned  to  that  period 
before  the  dry  land  was  made  to  appear.  As  the  frost  came 
out  of  the  open  spaces  of  the  garden,  plowed  fields,  and 
even  the  country  roads,  they  became  quagmires  in  which 
one  sank  indefinitely.  Seeing  the  vast  advantage  afforded 
to  the  men-folk  by  rubber  boots,  Amy  provided  herself 
with  a  pair,  and  with  something  of  the  exultation  of  the 
ancient  Hebrews  passed  dry-shod  through  the  general 
moisture. 


A   ROYAL    CAPTIVE  165 


CHAPTER  XX 

A   ROYAL   CAPTIVE 

IN  the  midst  of  this  dreary  transition  period  Nature  gave 
proof  that  she  has  unlimited  materials  of  beauty  at  her 
command  at  any  time.  Early  one  afternoon  the  broth 
ers  were  driven  in  from  their  outdoor  labors  by  a  cold, 
sleety  rain,  and  Leonard  predicted  an  ice- storm.  The  next 
morning  the  world  appeared  as  if  heavily  plated  with  silver. 
The  sun  at  last  was  unclouded,  and  as  he  looked  over  the 
top  of  Storm  King  his  long-missed  beams  transformed  the 
landscape  into  a  scene  of  wonder  and  beauty  beyond  any 
thing  described  in  Johnnie's  fairy  tales.  Trees,  shrubs,  the 
roofs  and  sidings  of  the  buildings,  the  wooden  and  even 
the  stone  fences,  the  spires  of  dead  grass,  and  the  unsightly 
skeletons  of  weeds,  were  all  incased  in  ice  and  touched  by 
the  magic  wand  of  beauty.  The  mountain- tops,  however, 
surpassed  all  other  objects  in  the  transfigured  world,  for 
upon  them  a  heavy  mist  had  rested  and  frozen,  clothing 
every  branch  and  spray  with  a  feathery  frost-work  of  crys 
tals,  which,  in  the  sun- lighted  distance,  was  like  a  great 
shock  of  silver  hair.  There  were  drawbacks,  however,  to 
this  marvellous  scene.  There  were  not  a  few  branches  al 
ready  broken  from  the  trees,  and  Mr.  Clifford  said  that  if 
the  wind  rose  the  weight  of  the  ice  would  cause  great  de 
struction.  They  all  hastened  through  breakfast,  Leonard 
and  Webb  that  they  might  relieve  the  more  valuable  fruit 
and  evergreen  trees  of  the  weight  of  ice,  and  Burt  and  Amy 
for  a  drive  up  the  mountain. 

As  they  slowly  ascended,  the  scene  under  the  increasing 


166  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

sunlight  took  on  every  moment  more  strange  and  magical 
effects.  The  ice-incased  twigs  and  boughs  acted  as  prisms, 
and  reflected  every  hue  of  the  rainbow,  and  as  they  ap 
proached  the  summit  the  feathery  frost-work  grew  more 
and  more  exquisitely  delicate  and  beautiful,  and  yet  it  was 
proving  to  be  as  evanescent  as  a  dream,  for  in  all  sunny 
place  it  was  already  vanishing.  They  had  scarcely  passed 
beyond  the  second  summit  when  JBurt  uttered  an  exclama 
tion  of  regretful  disgust.  "By  all  that's  unlucky,"  he 
cried,  "if  there  isn't  an  eagle  sitting  on  yonder  ledge!  I 
could  kill  him  with  bird-shot,  and  I  haven't  even  a  popgun 
with  me." 

"It's  too  bad,"  sympathized  Amy.  "Let  us  drive  as 
near  as  we  can,  and  get  a  good  view  before  he  flies." 

To  their  great  surprise,  he  did  not  move  as  they  ap 
proached,  but  only  glared  at  them  with  his  savage  eye. 

"Well,"  said  Burt,  "after  trying  for  hours  to  get  within 
rifle  range,  this  exceeds  anything  I  ever  saw.  I  wonder  if 
he  is  wounded  and  cannot  fly."  Suddenly  he  sprang  out, 
and  took  a  strap  from  the  harness.  "Hold  the  horse,  Amy. 
I  think  I  know  what  is  the  trouble  with  his  majesty,  and  we 
may  be  able  to  return  with  a  royal  captive. ' ' 

He  drew  near  the  eagle  slowly  and  warily,  and  soon  per 
ceived  that  he  was  incased  in  ice  from  head  to  foot,  and  only 
retained  the  power  of  slightly  moving  his  head.  The  crea 
ture  was  completely  helpless,  and  must  remain  so  until  his 
icy  fetters  thawed  out.  His  wings  were  frozen  to  his  sides, 
his  legs  covered  with  ice,  as  were  also  his  talons,  and  the 
dead  branch  of  a  low  pine  on  which  he  had  perched  hours 
before.  Icicles  hung  around  him,  making  a  most  fantastic 
fringe.  Only  his  defiant  eye  and  open  beak  could  give  ex 
pression  to  his  untamed,  undaunted  spirit.  It  was  evident 
that  the  bird  made  a  fierce  internal  struggle  to  escape,  but 
was  held  as  in  a  vise. 

Burt  was  so  elated  that  his  hand  trembled  with  eager 
ness;  but  he  resolved  to  act  'prudently,  and  grasping  the 
bird  firmly  but  gently  by  the  neck,  he  succeeded  in  sever- 


A    ROYAL    CAPTIVE  167 

ing  the  branch  upon  which  the  eagle  was  perched,  for  it  was 
his  purpose  to  exhibit  the  bird  just  as  he  had  found  him. 
Having  carefully  carried  his  prize  to  the  buggy,  he  induced 
Amy,  who  viewed  the  creature  with  mingled  wonder  and 
Alarm,  to  receive  this  strange  addition  to  their  number  for 
the  homeward  journey.  He  wrapped  her  so  completely 
with  the  carriage  robe  that  the  eagle  could  not  injure  her 
with  his  beak,  and  she  saw  he  could  no  more  move  in  other 
respects  than  a  block  of  ice.  As  an  additional  precaution, 
Burt  passed  the  strap  around  the  bird's  neck  and  tied  him 
to  the  dash-board.  Even  with  his  heavy  gloves  he  had  to 
act  cautiously,  for  the  eagle  in  his  disabled  state  could  still 
strike  a  powerful  blow.  Then,  with  an  exultation  beyond 
all  words,  he  drove  to  Dr.  Marvin's,  in  order  to  have  one  of 
the  "loudest  crows"  over  him  that  he  had  ever  enjoyed. 
The  doctor  did  not  mind  the  "crow"  in  the  least,  but  was 
delighted  with  the  adventure  and  capture,  for  the  whole 
affair  had  just  the  flavor  to  please  him.  As  he  was  a  skil 
ful  taxidermist,  he  good-naturedly  promised  to  "set  the 
eagle  up"  on  the  selfsame  branch  on  which  he  had  been 
found,  for  it  was  agreed  that  he  would  prove  too  dangerous 
a  pet  to  keep  in  the  vicinity  of  the  irrepressible  little  Ned. 
Indeed,  from  the  look  of  this  fellow's  eye,  it  was  evident 
that  he  would  be  dangerous  to  any  one.  "I  will  follow 
you  home,  and  after  you  have  exhibited  him  we  will  kill 
him  scientifically.  He  is  a  splendid  specimen,  and  not  a 
feather  need  be  ruffled." 

Burt  drove  around  to  the  Eev.  Mr.  Barkdale's  and  some 
others  of  his  nearest  neighbors  and  friends  in  a  sort  of  tri 
umphal  progress;  but  Amy  grew  uneasy  at  her  close  prox 
imity  to  so  formidable  a  companion,  fearing  that  he  would 
thaw  out.  Many  were  the  exclamations  of  wonder  and  curi 
osity  when  they  reached  home.  Alf  went  nearly  wild,  and 
little  Johnnie's  eyes  overflowed  with  tears  when  she  learned 
that  the  regal  bird  must  die.  As  for  Ned,  had  he  not  been 
restrained  he  would  have  given  the  eagle  a  chance  to  de 
vour  him. 


168  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"So,  Burt,  you  have  your  eagle  after  all,"  said  his 
mother,  looking  with  more  pleasure  and  interest  on  the 
flushed,  eager  face  of  her  handsome  boy  than  upon  his  cap 
tive.  "Well,  you  and  Amy  have  had  an  adventure." 

"I  always  have  good  fortune  and  good  times  when  you 
are  with  me,"  Burt  whispered  in  an  aside  to  Amy. 

"Always  is  a  long  time,"  she  replied,  turning  away;  but 
he  was  too  excited  to  note  that  she  did  not  reciprocate  his 
manner,  and  he  was  speedily  engaged  in  a  discussion  as  to 
the  best  method  of  preserving  the  eagle  in  the  most  life-like 
attitude.  After  a  general  family  council  it  was  decided  that 
his  future  perch  should  be  in  a  corner  of  the  parlor,  and 
within  a  few  days  he  occupied  it,  looking  so  natural  that 
callers  were  often  startled  by  his  lifelike  appearance. 

"Think  how  his  mate  must  miss  him!"  Maggie  would 
often  say,  remorsefully. 

As  the  day  grew  old  the  ice  on  the  trees  melted  and  fell 
away  in  myriads  of  gemlike  drops.  Although  the  sun  shone 
brightly,  there  was  a  sound  without  as  of  rain.  By  four  in 
the  afternoon  the  pageant  was  over,  the  sky  clouded  again, 
and  the  typical  March  outlook  was  re-established. 


SPRING'S   HARBINGERS  169 


CHAPTER  XXI 
SPRING'S  HARBINGERS 

AMY  was  awakened  on  the  following  morning  by  in 
numerable  bird-notes,  not  songs,  but  loud  calls. 
Hastening  to  the  window,  she  witnessed  a  scene 
very  strange  to  her  eyes.  All  over  the  grass  of  the  lawn 
and  on  the  ground  of  the  orchard  beyond  was  a  countless 
flock  of  what  seemed  to  her  quarter-grown  chickens.  A 
moment  later  the  voice  of  Alf  resounded  through  the 
house,  crying,  "The  robins  have  cornel"  Very  soon 
nearly  all  the  household  were  on  the  piazza  to  greet 
these  latest  arrivals  from  the  South;  and  a  pretty  scene 
of  life  and  animation  they  made,  with  their  yellow  bills, 
jaunty  black  heads,  and  brownish  red  breasts. 

"Turdus  migratorius,  as  the  doctor  would  say,"  re 
marked  Burt;  "and  migrants  they  are  with  a  vengeance. 
Last  night  there  was  not  one  to  be  seen,  and  now  here  are 
thousands.  They  are  on  their  way  north,  and  have  merely 
alighted  to  feed." 

"Isn't  it  odd  how  they  keep  their  distance  from  each 
other?"  said  Webb.  "You  can  scarcely  see  two  near  to 
gether,  but  every  few  feet  there  is  a  robin,  as  far  as  the  eye 
can  reach.  Yes,  and  there  are  some  high- holders  in  the 
orchard  also.  They  are  shyer  than  the  robins,  and  don't 
come  so  near  the  house.  You  can  tell  them,  Amy,  by 
their  yellow  bodies  and  brown  wings.  I  have  read  that 
they  usually  migrate  with  the  robins.  I  wonder  how  far 
this  flock  flew  last — ah,  listen!" 

Clear  and  sweet  came  an  exquisite  bird-song  from  an  ad- 

Vol.  1       aH 


170  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

jacent  maple.  Webb  took  off  his  hat  in  respectful  greeting 
to  the  minstrel. 

"Why,"  cried  Amy,  "that  little  brown  bird  cannot  be  a 
robin." 

"No,"  he  answered,  "that  is  my  favorite  of  all  the  ear 
liest  birds — the  song-sparrow.  You  remember  what  Dr.  Mar 
vin  said  about  him  the  other  evening  ?  I  have  been  looking 
for  my  little  friend  for  a  week  past,  and  here  he  is.  The 
great  tide  of  migration  has  turned  northward." 

"He  is  my  favorite  too,"  said  his  father.  "Every  spring 
for  over  seventy  years  I  remember  hearing  his  song,  and  it 
is  just  as  sweet  and  fresh  to  me  as  ever.  Indeed,  it  is  en 
riched  by  a  thousand  memories. ' ' 

For  two  or  three  days  the  robins  continued  plentiful 
around  the  house,  and  their  loud  "military  calls,"  as  Bur 
roughs  describes  them,  were  heard  at  all  hours  from  before 
the  dawn  into  the  dusk  of  night,  but  they  seemed  to  be  too 
excited  over  their  northward  journey  or  their  arrival  at 
their  old  haunts  to  indulge  in  the  leisure  of  song.  They 
reminded  one  of  the  advent  of  an  opera  company.  There 
was  incessant  chattering,  a  flitting  to  and  fro,  bustle  and 
excitement,  each  one  having  much  to  say,  and  no  one 
apparently  stopping  to  listen.  The  majority  undoubtedly 
continued  their  migration,  for  the  great  flocks  disappeared. 
It  is  said  that  the  birds  that  survive  the  vicissitudes  of  the 
year  return  to  their  former  haunts,  and  it  would  seem  that 
they  drop  out  of  the  general  advance  as  they  reach  the  lo 
cality  of  the  previous  summer's  nest,  to  which  they  are 
guided  by  an  unerring  instinct. 

The  evening  of  the  third  day  after  their  arrival  was 
comparatively  mild,  and  the  early  twilight  serene  and  quiet. 
The  family  were  just  sitting  down  to  supper  when  they  heard 
a  clear,  mellow  whistle,  so  resonant  and  penetrating  as  to 
arrest  their  attention,  although  doors  and  windows  were 
closed.  Hastening  to  the  door  they  saw  on  the  top  of  one 
of  the  tallest  elms  a  robin,  with  his  crimson  breast  lighted 
up  by  the  setting  sun,  and  his  little  head  lifted  heavenward 


SPRING'S    HARBINGERS  171 

in  the  utterance  of  what  seemed  the  perfection  of  an  even 
ing  hymn.  Indeed,  in  that  bleak,  dim  March  evening, 
with  the  long,  chill  night  fast  falling  and  the  stormy  weeks 
yet  to  come,  it  would  be  hard  to  find  a  finer  expression  of 
hope  and  faith. 

The  robin  is  a  bird  of  contrasts.  Peculiarly  domestic  in 
his  haunts  and  habits,  he  resembles  his  human  neighbors  in 
more  respects  than  one.  He  is  much  taken  up  with  his  ma 
terial  life,  and  is  very  fond  of  indulging  his  large  appe 
tite.  He  is  far  from  being  aesthetic  in  his  house  or  house 
keeping,  and  builds  a  strong,  coarse  nest  of  the  handiest 
materials  and  in  the  handiest  place,  selecting  the  latter  with 
a  confidence  in  boy-nature  and  cat-nature  that  is  often  mis 
placed.  He  is  noisy,  bustling,  and  important,  and  as  ready 
to  make  a  raid  on  a  cherry-tree  or  a  strawberry-bed  as  is  the 
average  youth  to  visit  a  melon-patch  by  moonlight.  He  has 
a  careless,  happy-go-lucky  air,  unless  irritated,  and  then  is 
as  eager  for  a  "square  set-to"  in  robin  fashion  as  the  most 
approved  scion  of  chivalry.  Like  man,  he  also  seems  to 
have  a  spiritual  element  in  his  nature;  and,  as  if  inspired 
and  lifted  out  of  his  grosser  self  by  the  dewy  freshness  of 
the  morning  and  the  shadowy  beauty  of  the  evening,  he 
sings  like  a  saint,  and  his  pure,  sweet  notes  would  never 
lead  one  to  suspect  that  he  was  guilty  of  habitual  gorman 
dizing.  He  settles  down  into  a  good  husband  and  father, 
and,  in  brief,  reminds  one  of  the  sturdy  English  squire  who 
is  sincerely  devout  over  his  prayer-book  on  proper  occa 
sions,  and  between  times  takes  all  the  goods  the  gods  send. 

In  the  morning  little  Johnnie  came  to  the  breakfast-table 
in  a  state  of  great  excitement.  It  soon  appeared  that  she 
had  a  secret  that  she  would  tell  no  one  but  Amy — indeed, 
she  would  not  tell  it,  but  show  it;  and  after  breakfast  she 
told  Amy  to  put  on  her  rubber  boots  and  come  with  her, 
warning  curious  Alf  meanwhile  to  keep  his  distance.  Lead 
ing  the  way  to  a  sunny  angle  in  the  garden  fence,  she 
showed  Amy  the  first  flower  of  the  year.  Although  it  was 
a  warm,  sunny  spot,  the  snow  had  drifted  there  to  such  an 


172  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

extent  that  the  icy  base  of  the  drift  still  partially  covered 
the  ground,  and  through  a  weak  place  in  the  melting  ice  a 
snow-drop  had  pushed  its  green,  succulent  leaves  and  hung 
out  its  modest  little  blossom.  The  child,  brought  up  from 
infancy  to  feel  the  closest  sympathy  with  nature,  fairly 
trembled  with  delight  over  this  avant-coureur  of  the  in 
numerable  flowers  which  it  was  her  chief  happiness  to 
gather.  As  if  in  sympathy  with  the  exultation  of  the 
child,  and  in  appreciation  of  all  that  the  pale  little  blos 
som  foreshadowed,  a  song-sparrow  near  trilled  out  its 
sweetest  lay,  a  robin  took  up  the  song,  and  a  pair  of 
bluebirds  passed  overhead  with  their  undulating  flight 
and  soft  warble.  Truly  spring  had  come  in  that  nook  of 
the  old  garden,  even  though  the  mountains  were  still  cov 
ered  with  snow,  the  river  was  full  of  floating  ice,  and  the 
wind  chill  with  the  breath  of  winter.  Could  there  have 
been  a  fairer  or  more  fitting  committee  of  reception  than 
little  Johnnie,  believing  in  all  things,  hoping  all  things, 
and  brown-haired,  hazel-eyed  Amy,  with  the  first  awaken 
ings  of  womanhood  in  her  heart? 


'FIRST   TIMES"  173 


CHAPTER  XXII 

"FIRST  TIMES" 

AT  last  Nature  was  truly  awakening,  and  color  was 
coming  into  her  pallid  face.  On  every  side  were 
increasing  movement  and  evidences  of  life.  Sunny 
hillsides  were  free  from  snow,  and  the  oozing  frost  loosed 
the  hold  of  stones  upon  the  soil  or  the  clay  of  precipitous 
banks,  leaving  them  to  the  play  of  gravitation.  Will  the 
world  become  level  if  there  are  no  more  upheavals  ?  .  The 
ice  of  the  upper  Hudson  was  journeying  toward  the  sea  that 
it  would  never  reach.  The  sun  smote  it,  the  high  winds 
ground  the  honey-combed  cakes  together,  and  the  ebb  and 
flow  of  the  tide  permitted  no  pause  in  the  work  of  disinte 
gration.  By  the  middle  of  March  the  blue  water  predomi 
nated,  and  adventurous  steamers  had-  already  picked  and 
pounded  their  way  to  and  from  the  city. 

Only  those  deeply  enamored  of  Nature  feel  much  enthu 
siasm  for  the  first  month  of  spring;  but  for  them  this  season 
possesses  a  peculiar  fascination.  The  beauty  that  has  been 
so  cold  and  repellent  in  relenting — yielding,  seemingly 
against  her  will,  to  a  wooing  that  cannot  be  repulsed  by 
even  her  harshest  moods.  To  the  vigilance  of  love,  sud 
den,  unexpected  smiles  are  granted;  and  though,  as  if  these 
were  regretted,  the  frown  quickly  returns,  it  is  often  less 
forbidding.  It  is  a  period  full  of  delicious,  soul-thrilling 
"first  times,"  the  coy,  exquisite  beginnings  of  that  final 
abandonment  to  her  suitor  in  the  sky.  Although  she  veils 
her  face  for  days  with  clouds,  and  again  and  again  greets 
him  in  the  dawn,  wrapped  in  her  old  icy  reserve,  he  smiles 


174  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

back  his  answer,  and  she  cannot  resist.  Indeed,  there  soon 
come  warm,  still,  bright  days  whereon  she  feels  herself 
going,  but  does  not  even  protest.  Then,  as  if  suddenly 
conscious  of  lost  ground,  she  makes  a  passionate  effort  to 
regain  her  wintry  aspect.  It  is  so  passionate  as  to  betray 
her,  so  stormy  as  to  insure  a  profounder  relenting,  a  warmer, 
more  tearful,  and  penitent  smile  after  her  wild  mood  is  over. 
She  finds  that  she  cannot  return  to  her  former  sustained 
coldness,  and  so  at  last  surrenders,  and  the  frost  passes 
wholly  from  her  heart. 

To  Alf's  and  Johnnie's  delight  it  so  happened  that  one 
of  these  gentlest  moods  of  early  spring  occurred  on  Saturday 
— that  weekly  millennium  of  school-children.  With  plans 
and  preparations  matured,  they  had  risen  with  the  sun,  and, 
scampering  back  and  forth  over  the  frozen  ground  and  the 
remaining  patches  of  ice  and  snow,  had  carried  every  pail 
and  pan  that  they  could  coax  from  their  mother  to  a  rocky 
hillside  whereon  clustered  a  few  sugar-maples.  Webb,  the 
evening  before,  had  inserted  into  the  sunny  sides  of  the  trees 
little  wooden  troughs,  and  from  these  the  tinkling  drip  of 
the  sap  made  a  music  sweeter  than  that  of  the  robins  to  the 
eager  boy  and  girl. 

At  the  breakfast- table  each  one  was  expatiating  on  the 
rare  promise  of  the  day.  Even  Mrs.  Clifford,  awakened  by 
the  half  subdued  clatter  of  the  children,  had  seen  the  bril 
liant,  rose  tinted  dawn. 

"The  day  cannot  be  more  beautiful  than  was  the  night," 
Webb  remarked.  "A  little  after  midnight  I  was  awakened 
by  a  clamor  from  the  poultry,  and  suspecting  either  two  or 
four  footed  thieves,  I  was  soon  covering  the  hennery  with 
my  gun.  As  a  result,  Sir  Mephitis,  as  Burroughs  calls  him, 
lies  stark  and  stiff  near  the  door.  After  watching  awhile, 
and  finding  no  other  marauders  abroad,  I  became  aware  that 
it  was  one  of  the  most  perfect  nights  I  had  ever  seen.  It 
was  hard  to  imagine  that,  a  few  hours  before,  a  gale  had 
been  blowing  under  a  cloudy  sky.  The  moonlight  was  so 
clear  that  I  could  see  to  read  distinctly.  So  attractive  and 


"FIRST    TIMES"  175 

still  was  the  night  that  I  started  for  an  hour's  walk  up  the 
boulevard,  and  when  near  Idlewild  brook  had  the  fortune 
to  empty  the  other  barrel  of  my  gun  into  a  great  horned  owl. 
How  the  echoes  resounded  in  the  quiet  night!  The  changes 
in  April  are  more  rapid,  but  they  are  on  a  grander  scale  this 
month. ' ' 

"It  seems  to  me,"  laughed  Burt,  "that  your  range  of 
topics  is  even  more  sublime.  From  Sir  Mephitis  to  roman 
tic  moonlight  and  lofty  musings,  no  doubt,  which  ended 
with  a  screech-owl." 

"The  great  horned  is  not  a  screech-owl,  as  you  ought  to 
know.  Well,  Nature  is  to  blame  for  my  alternations.  I 
only  took  the  goods  the  gods  sent." 

•  "I  hope  you  did  not  take  cold,"  said  Maggie.    "The  idea 
of  prowling  around  at  that  time  of  night!" 

"Webb  was  in  hopes  that  Nature  might  bestow  upon 
him  some  confidences  by  moonlight  that  he  could  not  coax 
from  her  in  broad  day.  I  shall  seek  better  game  than  you 
found.  Ducks  are  becoming  plenty  in  the  river,  and  all  the 
conditions  are  favorable  for  a  crack  at  them  this  morning. 
So  I  shall  paddle  out  with  a  white  coat  over  my  clothes,  and 
pretend  to  be  a  cake  of  ice.  If  I  bring  you  a  canvas-back, 
Amy,  will  you  put  the  wishbone  over  the  door  ?' 

"Not  till  I  have  locked  it  and  hidden  the  key." 

Without  any  pre-arranged  purpose  the  day  promised  to 
be  given  up  largely  to  country  sport.  Burt  had  taken  a 
lunch,  and  would  not  return  until  night,  while  the  increas 
ing  warmth  and  brilliancy  of  the  sunshine,  and  the  chil 
dren's  voices  from  the  maple  grove,  soon  lured  Amy  to  the 
piazza. 

"Come,"  cried  Webb,  who  emerged  from  the  wood- house 
with  an  axe  on  his  shoulder,  "don  rubber  boots  and  wraps, 
and  we'll  improvise  a  male-sugar  camp  of  the  New  England 
style  a  hundred  years  ago.  We  should  make  the  most  of  a 
day  like  this." 

They  soon  joined  the  children  on  the  hillside,  whither 
Abram  had  already  carried  a  capacious  iron  pot  as  black  as 


176  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

himself.  On  a  little  terrace  that  was  warm  and  bare  of 
snow,  Webb  set  up  cross-sticks  in  gypsy  fashion,  and  then 
with  a  chain  supended  the  pot,  the  children  dancing  like 
witches  around  it.  Mr.  Clifford  and  little  Ned  now  ap 
peared,  the  latter  joining  in  the  eager  quest  for  dry  sticks. 
Not  far  away  was  a  large  tree  that  for  several  years  had 
been  slowly  dying,  its  few  living  branches  having  flushed 
early  in  September,  in  their  last  glow,  which  had  been  pre 
mature  and  hectic.  Dry  sticks  would  make  little  impression 
on  the  sap  that  now  in  the  warmer  light  dropped  faster  from 
the  wounded  maples,  and  therefore  to  supply  the  intense 
heat  that  should  give  them  at  least  a  rich  syrup  before 
night,  Webb  threw  off  his  coat  and  attacked  the  defunct 
veteran  of  the  grove.  Amy  watched  his  vigorous  strokes 
with  growing  zest;  and  he,  conscious  of  her  eyes,  struck 
strong  and  true.  Leonard,  not  far  away,  was  removing  im 
pediments  from  the  courses,  thus  securing  a  more  rapid 
flow  of  the  water  and  promoting  the  drainage  of  the  land. 
He  had  sent  up  his  cheery  voice  from  time  to  time,  but  now 
joined  the  group,  to  witness  the  fall  of  a  tree  that  had  been 
old  when  he  had  played  near  it  like  his  own  children  to-day. 
The  echoes  of  the  ringing  axe  came  back  to  them  from  an 
adjacent  hillside;  a  squirrel  barked  and  "snickered,"  as  if 
he  too  were  a  party  to  the  fun;  crows  overhead  cawed  a 
protest  at  the  destruction  of  their  ancient  perch;  but  with 
steady  and  remorseless  stroke  the  axe  was  driven  through 
the  concentric  rings  on  either  side  into  the  tree's  dead  heart. 
At  last,  as  fibre  after  fibre  was  cut  away,  it  began  to  trem 
ble.  The  children  stood  breathless  and  almost  pitying  as 
they  saw  the  shiver,  apparently  conscious,  which  followed 
each  blow.  Something  of  the  same  callousness  of  custom 
with  which  the  fall  of  a  man  is  witnessed  must  blunt  one's 
nature  before  he  can  look  unmoved  upon  the  destruction  of 
a  familiar  tree. 

As  the  dead  maple  trembled  more  and  more  violently, 
and  at  last  swayed  to  and  fro  in  the  breathless  air,  Amy 
cried,  "Webb!  Webb!  come  away!" 


"FIRST   TIMES"  177 

She  had  hardly  spoken  when,  with  a  slow  and  stately 
motion,  the  lofty  head  bowed;  there  was  a  rush  through  the 
air,  an  echoing  crash  upon  the  rocks.  She  sprang  forward 
with  a  slight  cry,  but  Webb,  leaning  his  axe  on  the  pros 
trate  bole,  looked  smilingly  at  her,  and  said,  "Why,  Amy, 
there  is  no  more  danger  in  this  work  than  in  cutting  a  stalk 
of  corn,  if  one  knows  how." 

"There  appears  to  be  more,"  she  replied.  "I  never  saw 
a  large  tree  cut  down  before,  but  have  certainly  read  of  peo 
ple  being  crushed.  Does  it  often  happen?" 

"No,  indeed." 

"By  the  way,  Amy,"  said  Leonard,  "the  wood-chopper 
that  you  visited  with  me  is  doing  so  well  that  we  shall  give 
him  work  on  the  farm  this  summer.  There  was  a  little 
wheat  in  all  that  chaff  of  a  man,  and  it's  beginning  to  grow. 
But  the  wife  is  a  case.  He  says  he  would  like  to  work 
where  he  can  see  you  occasionally." 

"I  have  been  there  twice  with  Webb  since,  and  shall  go 
oftener  when  the  roads  are  better,"  she  replied,  simply. 

"That's  right,  Amy;  follow  up  a  thing,"  said  Mr.  Clif 
ford.  "It's  better  to  help  one  family  than  to  try  to  help  a 
dozen.  That  was  a  good  clean  cut,  Webb,"  he  added,  ex 
amining  the  stump.  "1  dislike  to  see  a  tree  haggled  down." 

"How  strong  you  are,  Webb!"  said  Amy.  "I  suppose 
that  if  you  had  lived  a  few  hundred  years  ago  you  would 
have  been  hacking  at  people  in  the  same  way." 

"And  so  might  have  been  a  hero,  and  won  your  admira 
tion  if  you  had  lived  then  in  some  gray  castle,  with  the  floor 
of  your  bower  strewn  with  rushes.  Now  there  is  no  career 
for  me  but  that  of  a  plain  farmer. ' ' 

"What  manly  task  was  given  long  before  knighthood, 
eh,  Webb?  Right  royal  was  the  commission,  too.  Was  it 
not  to  subdue  the  earth  ?  It  seems  to  me  that  you  are  striv 
ing  after  the  higher  mastery,  one  into  which  you  can  put  all 
your  mind  as  well  as  muscle.  Knocking  people  on  the  head 
wasn't  a  very  high  art." 

"What!  not  in  behalf  of  a  distressed  damsel  ?" 


178  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"I  imagine  there  will  always  be  distressed  damsels  in  the 
world.  Indeed,  in  fiction  it  would  seem  that  many  would 
be  nothing  if  not  distressed.  You  can  surely  find  one, 
"Webb,  and  so  be  a  knight  in  spite  of  our  prosaic  times. ' ' 

"I  shall  not  try,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "I  am  content 
to  be  a  farmer,  and  am  glad  you  do  not  think  our  work  is 
coarse  and  common.  You  obtained  some  good  ideas  in 
England,  Amy.  The  tastes  of  the  average  American  girl 
incline  too  much  toward  the  manhood  of  the  shop  and 
office.  There,  Len,  I  am  rested  now;"  and  he  took  the  axe 
from  his  brother,  who  had  been  lopping  the  branches  from 
the  prostrate  tree. 

Amy  again  watched  his  athletic  figure  with  pleasure  as 
he  rapidly  prepared  billets  for  the  seething  caldron  of  sap. 

The  day  was  indeed  forming  an  illuminated  page.  The 
blue  of  the  sky  seemed  intense  after  so  many  gray  and  steel- 
hued  days,  and  there  was  not  a  trace  of  cloud.  The  flowing 
sap  was  not  sweeter  than  the  air,  to  which  the  brilliant  sun 
light  imparted  an  exhilarating  warmth  far  removed  from 
sultriness.  From  the  hillside  came  the  woody  odor  of  de 
caying  leaves,  and  from  the  adjacent  meadow  the  delicate 
perfume  of  grasses  whose  roots  began  to  tingle  with  life  the 
moment  the  iron  grip  of  the  frost  relaxed.  Sitting  on  a 
rock  near  the  crackling  fire,  Amy  made  as  fair  a  gypsy  as 
one  would  wish  to  see.  On  every  side  were  evidences  that 
spring  was  taking  possession  of  the  land.  In  the  hollows 
of  the  meadow  at  her  feet  were  glassy  pools,  kept  from  sink 
ing  away  by  a  substratum  of  frost,  and  among  these  migra 
tory  robins  and  high-holders  were  feeding.  The  brook  be 
yond  was  running  full  from  the  melting  of  the  snow  in  the 
mountains,  and  its  hoarse  murmur  was  the  bass  in  the  musi 
cal  babble  and  tinkle  of  smaller  rills  hastening  toward  it  on 
either  side.  Thus  in  all  directions  the  scene  was  lighted  up 
with  the  glint  and  sparkle  of  water.  The  rays  of  the  sun 
idealized  even  the  muddy  road,  of  which  a  glimpse  was 
caught,  for  the  pasty  clay  glistened  like  the  surface  of  a 
stream.  The  returning  birds  appeared  as  jubilant  over  the 


"FIRST   TIMES"  179 

day  as  the  children  whose  voices  blended  with  their  songs — 
as  do  all  the  sounds  that  are  absolutely  natural.  The  mi 
gratory  tide  of  robins,  song-sparrows,  phoebes,  and  other 
early  birds  was  still  moving  northward;  but  multitudes  had 
dropped  out  of  line,  having  reached  th^ir  haunts  of  the  pre 
vious  year.  The  sunny  hillsides  and  its  immediate  vicinity 
seemed  a  favorite  lounging-place  both  for  the  birds  of  pas 
sage  and  for  those  already  at  home.  The  excitement  of 
travel  to  some,  and  the  delight  at  having  regained  the  scene 
of  last  year's  love  and  nesting  to  others,  added  to  the  uni 
versal  joy  of  spring,  so  exhilarated  their  hearts  that  they 
could  scarcely  be  still  a  moment.  Although  the  sun  was 
approaching  the  zenith,  there  was  not  the  comparative  si 
lence  that  pervades  a  summer  noon.  Bird  calls  resounded 
everywhere;  there  was  a  constant  flutter  of  wings,  as  if  all 
were  bent  upon  making  or  renewing  acquaintance — an  occu 
pation  frequently  interrupted  by  transports  of  song. 

"Do  you  suppose  they  really  recognize  each  other?" 
Amy  asked  Webb,  as  he  threw  down  an  armful  of  wood 
near  her. 

"Dr.  Marvin  would  insist  that  they  do,"  he  replied, 
laughing.  "When  with  him,  one  must  be  wary  in  denying 
to  the  birds  any  of  the  virtues  and  powers.  He  would  prob 
ably  say  that  they  understood  each  other  as  well  as  we  do. 
They  certainly  seem  to  be  comparing  notes,  in  one  sense  of 
the  word  at  least.  Listen,  and  you  will  hear  at  this  moment 
the  song  of  bluebird,  robin,  both  song  and  fox  sparrow, 
phcebe,  blue  jay,  high-holder,  and  crow — that  is,  if  you  can 
call  the  notes  of  the  last  two  birds  a  song." 

"What  a  lovely  chorus!"  she  cried,  after  a  few  moments' 
pause. 

"Wait  till  two  months  have  passed,  and  you  will  hear  a 
grand  symphony  every  morning  and  evening.  All  the  mem 
bers  of  our  summer  opera  troupe  do  not  arrive  till  June,  and 
several  weeks  must  still  pass  before  the  great  star  of  the 
season  appears." 

"Indeed!  and  who  is  he,  or  she?" 


180  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"Both  he  and  she — the  woodthrush  and  his  mate.  They 
are  very  aristocratic  kin  of  these  robins.  A  little  before 
them  will  come  two  other  blood-relations,  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Brownthrasher,  who,  notwithstanding  their  family  connec 
tion  with  the  high  toned  woodthrush  and  jolly,  honest 
robin,  are  stealthy  in  their  manner,  and  will  skulk  away 
before  you  as  if  ashamed  of  something.  When  the  musical 
fit  is  on  them,  however,  they  will  sing  openly  from  the 
loftiest  tree-top,  and  with  a  sweetness,  too,  that  few  birds 
can  equal." 

"Why,  Webb,  you  almost  equal  Dr.  Marvin." 

"Oh  no;  I  only  become  acquainted  with  my  favorites. 
Tf  a  bird  is  rare,  though  commonplace  in  itself,  he  will 
pursue  it  as  if  it  laid  golden  eggs." 

A  howl  from  Ned  proved  that  even  the  brightest  days 
and  scenes  have  their  drawbacks.  The  little  fellow  had 
been  prowling  around  among  the  pails  and  pans,  intent  on 
obtaining  a  drink  of  the  sap,  and  thus  had  put  his  hand 
on  a  honey-bee  seeking  the  first  sweet  of  the  year.  In  an  in 
stant  Webb  reached  his  side,  and  saw  what  the  trouble 
was.  Carrying  him  to  the  fire,  he  drew  a  key  from  his 
pocket,  and  pressed  its  hollow  ward  over  the  spot  stung. 
This  caused  the  poison  to  work  out.  Nature's  remedy — 
mud — abounded,  and  soon  a  little  moist  clay  covered  the 
wound,  and  Amy  took  him  in  her  arms  and  tried  to  pacify 
him,  while  his  father,  who  had  strolled  away  with  Mr. 
Clifford,  speedily  returned.  The  grandfather  looked  down 
commiseratingly  on  the  sobbing  little  companion  of  his 
earlier  morning  walk,  and  soon  brought,  not  merely  seren 
ity,  but  joy  unbounded,  by  a  quiet  proposition.  i 

"I  will  go  back  to  the  house,"  he  said,  "and  have 
mamma  put  up  a  nice  lunch,  and  you  and  the  other  chil 
dren  can  eat  your  dinner  here  by  the  fire.  So  can  you, 
Webb  and  Amy,  and  then  you  can  look  after  the  young 
sters.  It's  warm  and  dry  here.  Suppose  you  have  a  little 
picnic,  which,  in  March,  will  be  a  thing  to  remember. 
Alf,  you  can  come  with  me,  and  while  mamma  is  preparing 


"FIRST   TIMES"  181 

the  lunch  you  can  run  to  the  market  and  get  some  oysters 
and  clams,  and  these,  with  potatoes,  you  can  roast  in  the 
ashes  of  a  smaller  fire,  which  Ned  and  Johnnie  can  look 
after  under  Webb's  superintendence.  Wouldn't  you  like 
my  little  plan,  Amy?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  she  replied,  putting  her  hands  caress 
ingly  within  his  arm.  "It's  hard  to  think  you  are  old  when 
you  know  so  well  what  we  young  people  like.  I  didn't  be 
lieve  that  this  day  could  be  brighter  or  jollier,  and  yet  your 
plan  has  made  the  children  half- wild." 

Indeed,  Alf  had  already  given  his  approval  by  tearing 
off  toward  the  house  for  the  materials  of  this  unprecedented 
March  feast  in  the  woods,  and  the  old  gentleman,  as  if  made 
buoyant  by  the  good  promise  of  his  little  project  in  the 
children's  behalf,  followed  with  a  step  wonderfully  elastic 
for  a  man  of  fourscore. 

"Well,  Heaven  grant  I  may  attain  an  age  like  that!" 
said  Webb,  looking  wistfully  after  him.  "There  is  more 
of  spring  than  autumn  in  father  yet,  and  I  don't  believe 
there  will  be  any  winter  in  his  life.  Well,  Amy,  like  the 
birds  and  squirrels  around  us,  we  shall  dine  out-of-doors  to 
day.  You  must  be  mistress  of  the  banquet;  Ned,  Johnnie, 
and  I  place  ourselves  under  your  orders:  don't  we, 
Johnnie?" 

"To  be  sure,  uncle  Webb;  only  I'm  so  crazy  over  all 
this  fun  that  I'm  sure  I  can  never  do  anything  straight." 

"Well,  then,  'bustle!  bustle!'  "  cried  Amy.  "I  believe 
with  Maggie  that  housekeeping  and  dining  well  are  high 
arts,  and  not  humdrum  necessities.  Webb,  I  need  a  broad, 
flat  rock.  Please  provide  one  at  once,  while  Johnnie  gathers 
clean  dry  leaves  for  plates.  You,  Ned,  can  put  lots  of  dry 
sticks  between  the  stones  there,  and  uncle  Webb  will  kindle 
the  right  kind  of  a  fire  to  leave  plenty  of  hot  coals  and 
ashes.  Now  is  the  time  for  him  to  make  his  science  useful." 

Webb  was  becoming  a  mystery  unto  himself.  Was  it  the 
exquisitely  pure  air  and  the  exhilarating  spring  sunshine 
that  sent  the  blood  tingling  through  his  veins  ?  Or  was  it 


182  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

the  presence,  tones,  and  gestures  of  a  girl  with  brow  and 
neck  like  the  snow  that  glistened  on  the  mountain  slopes 
above  them,  and  large  true  eyes  that  sometimes  seemed 
gray  and  again  blue  ?  Amy's  developing  beauty  was  far 
removed  from  a  fixed  type  of  prettiness,  and  he  felt  this 
in  a  vague  way.  The  majority  of  the  girls  of  his  acquaint 
ance  had  a  manner  rather  than  an  individuality,  and  looked 
and  acted  much  the  same  whenever  he  saw  them.  They 
were  conventionalized  after  some  received  country  type, 
and  although  farmers'  daughters,  they  seemed  unnatural  to 
this  lover  of  nature.  Allowing  for  the  difference  in  years, 
Amy  was  as  devoid  of  self-consciousness  as  Alf  or  Johnnie. 
Not  the  slightest  trace  of  mannerism  perverted  her  girlish 
ways.  She  moved,  talked,  and  acted  with  no  more  effort 
or  thought  of  effort  than  had  the  bluebirds  that  were  pass 
ing  to  and  fro  with  their  simple  notes  and  graceful  flight. 
She  was  nature  in  its  phase  of  girlhood.  To  one  of  his  tem 
perament  and  training  the  perfect  day  itself  would  have 
been  full  of  unalloyed  enjoyment,  although  occupied  with 
his  ordinary  labors;  but  for  some  reason  this  unpremedi 
tated  holiday,  with  Amy's  companionship,  gave  him  a 
pleasure  before  unknown — a  pleasure  deep  and  satisfying, 
unmarred  by  jarring  discords  or  uneasy  protests  of  con 
science  or  reason.  Truly,  on  this  spring  day  a  "first  time" 
came  to  him,  a  new  element  was  entering  into  his  life.  He 
did  not  think  of  defining  it;  he  did  not  even  recognize  it, 
except  in  the  old  and  general  way  that  Amy's  presence  had 
enriched  them  all,  and  in  his  own  case  had  arrested  a  ten 
dency  to  become  materialistic  and  narrow.  On  a  like  day 
the  year  before  he  would  have  been  absorbed  in  the  occupa 
tions  of  the  farm,  and  merely  conscious  to  a  certain  exteut 
of  the  sky  above  him  and  the  bird  song  and  beauty  around 
him.  To-day  they  were  like  revelations.  Even  a  March 
world  was  transfigured.  His  zest  in  living  and  working 
was  enhanced  a  thousand- fold,  because  life  and  work  were 
illumined  by  happiness,  as  the  scene  was  brightened  by 
Bunchine.  He  felt  that  he  had  only  half  seen  the  world 


"FIRST    TIMES"  183 

before;  now  he  had  the  joy  of  one  gradually  gaining  vision 
after  partial  blindness. 

Amy  saw  that  he  was  enjoying  the  day  immensely  in  his 
quiet  way;  she  also  saw  that  she  had  not  a  little  to  do  with 
the  result,  and  the  reflection  that  she  could  please  and  in 
terest  the  grave  and  thoughtful  man,  who  was  six  years  her 
senior,  conveyed  a  delicious  sense  of  power.  And  yet  she 
was  pleased  much  as  a  child  would  be.  "He  knows  so 
much  more  than  1  do,"  she  thought,  "and  is  usually  so 
wrapped  up  in  some  deep  subject,  or  so  busy,  that  it's 
awfully  jolly  to  find  that  one  can  beguile  him  into  having 
such  a  good  time.  Burt  is  so  exuberant  in  everything  that 
I  am  afraid  of  being  carried  away,  as  by  a  swift  stream,  I 
know  not  where.  I  feel  like  checking  and  restraining  him 
all  the  time.  For  me  to  add  my  small  stock  of  mirth  to  his 
immense  spirits  would  be  like  lighting  a  candle  on  a  day 
like  this;  but  when  I  smile  on  Webb  the  effect  is  wonder 
ful,  and  I  can  never  get  over  my  pleased  surprise  at  the 
fact." 

Thus,  like  the  awakening  forces  in  the  soil  around  them, 
a  vital  force  was  developing  in  two  human  hearts  equally 
unconscious. 

Alf  and  his  grandfather  at  last  returned,  each  well  laden, 
and  preparations  went  on  apace.  Mr.  Clifford  made  as  if  he 
would  return  and  dine  at  home,  but  they  all  clamored  for 
his  company.  With  a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  he  said: 

"Well,  I  told  mother  that  I  might  lunch  with  you,  and 
I  was  only  waiting  to  be  pressed  a  little.  I've  lived  a  good 
many  years,  but  never  was  on  a  picnic  in  March  before." 

"Grandpa,  you  shall  be  squeezed  as  well  as  pressed," 
cried  Johnnie,  putting  her  arms  about  his  neck.  "You 
shall  stay  and  see  what  a  lovely  time  you  have  given  us. 
Oh,  if  Cinderella  were  only  here!"  and  she  gave  one  little 
sigh,  the  first  of  the  day. 

"Possibly  Cinderella  may  appear  in  time  for  lunch;" 
and  with  a  significant  look  he  directed  Amy  to  the  basket 
he  had  brought,  from  the  bottom  of  which  was  drawn  a  doll 


184  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

with  absurdly  diminutive  feet,  and  for  once  in  her  life  John 
nie's  heart  craved  nothing  more. 

"Maggie  knew  that  this  little  mother  could  not  be  con 
tent  long  without  her  doll,  and  so  she  put  it  in.  You  chil 
dren  have  a  thoughtful  mother,  and  you  must  be  thought 
ful  of  her,"  added  the  old  man,  who  felt  that  the  incident 
admitted  of  a  little  homily. 

What  appetites  they  all  had!  If  some  of  the  potatoes 
were  slightly  burned  and  others  a  little  raw,  the  occasion 
added  a  flavor  better  than  Attic  salt.  A  flock  of  chickadees 
approached  near  enough  to  gather  the  crumbs  that  were 
thrown  to  them. 

"It's  strange,"  said  Webb,  "how  tame  the  birds  are 
when  they  return  in  the  spring.  In  the  fall  the  robins  are 
among  the  wildest  of  the  birds,  and  now  they  are  all  around 
us.  I  believe  that  if  I  place  some  crumbs  on  yonder  rock, 
they'll  come  and  dine  with  us,  in  a  sense;"  and  the  event 
proved  that  he  was  right. 

"Hey,  Johnnie,"  said  her  grandfather,  "you  never  took 
dinner  with  the  birds  before,  did  you  ?  This  is  almost  as 
wonderful  as  if  Cinderella  sat  up  and  asked  for  an  oyster." 

But  Johnnie  was  only  pleased  with  the  fact,  not  sur 
prised.  Wonderland  was  her  land,  and  she  said,  "I  don't 
see  why  the  birds  can't  understand  that  I'd  like  to  have 
dinner  with  them  every  day." 

"By  the  way,  Webb,"  continued  his  father,  "I  brought 
out  the  field-glass  with  me,  for  I  thought  that  with  your 
good  eyes  you  might  see  Burt;"  and  he  drew  it  from  his 
pocket. 

The  idea  of  seeing  Burt  shooting  ducks  nearly  broke  up 
the  feast,  and  Webb  swept  the  distant  river,  full  of  floating 
ice  that  in  the  sunlight  looked  like  snow.  "I  can  see  sev 
eral  out  in  boats,"  he  said,  "and  Burt,  no  doubt,  is  among 
them." 

Then  Amy,  Alf,  and  Johnnie  must  have  a  look,  but 
Ned  devoted  himself  strictly  to  business,  and  Amy  re 
marked  that  he  was  becoming  like  a  little  sausage. 


"FIRST   TIMES"  185 

"Can  the  glass  make  us  hear  the  noise  of  the  gun 
better?"  Johnnie  asked,  at  which  they  all  laughed,  Ned 
loader  than  any,  because  of  the  laughter  of  the  others.  It 
required  but  a  little  thing  to  make  these  banqueters  hilarious. 

But  there  was  one  who  heard  them  and  did  not  laugh. 
From  the  brow  of  the  hill  a  dark,  sad  face  looked  down 
upon  them.  Lured  by  the  beauty  of  the  day,  Mr.  Alvord 
had  wandered  aimlessly  into  the  woods,  and,  attracted  by 
merry  voices,  had  drawn  sufficiently  near  to  witness  a  scene 
that  awakened  within  him  indescribable  pain  and  longing. 
He  did  not  think  of  joining  them.  It  was  not  a  fear  that 
he  would  be  unwelcomed  that  kept  him  away;  he  knew  the 
family  too  well  to  imagine  that.  A  stronger  restraint  was 
upon  him.  Something  in  the  past  darkened  even  that  bright 
day,  and  built  in  the  crystal  air  a  barrier  that  he  could  not 
pass.  They  would  give  him  a  place  at  their  rustic  board, 
but  he  could  not  take  it.  He  knew  that  he  would  be  a  dis 
cord  in  their  harmony,  and  their  innocent  merriment  smote 
his  morbid  nature  with  almost  intolerable  pain.  With  a 
gesture  indicating  immeasurable  regret,  he  turned  and 
hastened  away  to  his  lonely  home.  As  he  mounted  the 
little  piazza  his  steps  were  arrested.  The  exposed  end  of 
a  post  that  supported  the  inner  side  of  its  roof  formed 
a  little  sheltered  nook  in  which  a  pair  of  bluebirds  had 
begun  to  build  their  nest.  They  looked  at  him  with  curious 
and  distrustful  eyes  as  they  flitted  to  and  fro  in  a  neighbor 
ing  tree,  and  he  sat  down  and  looked  at  them.  The  birds 
were  evidently  in  doubt  and  in  perturbed  consultation. 
They  would  fly  to  the  post,  then  away  and  all  around  the 
house,  but  scarcely  a  moment  passed  that  Mr.  Alvord  did 
not  see  that  he  was  observed  and  discussed.  With  singular 
interest  and  deep  suspense  he  awaited  their  decision.  At 
last  it  came,  and  was  favorable.  The  female  bird  came  fly 
ing  to  the  post  with  a  beakful  of  fine  dry  grass,  and  her 
mate,  on  a  spray  near,  broke  out  into  his  soft,  rapturous 
song.  The  master  of  the  house  gave  a  great  sigh  of  relief. 
A  glimmer  of  a  smile  passed  over  his  wan  face  as  he  mut- 


186  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

tered,  "I  expected  to  be  alone  this  summer,  but  I  am  to 
have  a  family  with  me,  after  all." 

Soon  after  the  lunch  had  been  discussed  leisurely  and 
hilariously  the  maple-sugar  camp  was  left  in  the  care  of  Alf 
and  Johnnie,  with  Abram  to  assist  them.  Amy  longed  for 
a  stroll,  but  even  with  the  protection  of  rubber  boots  she 
found  that  the  departing  frost  had  left  the  sodded  meadow 
too  wet  and  spongy  for  safety.  Under  Webb's  direction 
she  picked  her  way  to  the  margin  of  the  swollen  stream, 
and  gathered  some  pussy  willows  that  were  bursting  their 
sheaths. 


REGRETS   AND    DUCK-SHOOTING  187 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

REGRETS    AND   DUCK-SHOOTING 

SATURDAY  afternoon,  as  is  usual  in  the  country, 
brought  an  increased  number  of  duties  to  the  in 
habitants  of  the  farmhouse,  but  at  the  supper  hour 
they  all,  except  Burt,  looked  back  upon  the  day  with  un 
wonted  satisfaction.  He  had  returned  weary,  hungry,  and 
discontented,  notwithstanding  the  fact  that  several  brace  of 
ducks  hung  on  the  piazza  as  trophies  of  his  skill.  He  was 
in  that  uncomfortable  frame  of  mind  which  results  from 
charging  one's  self  with  a  blunder.  In  the  morning  he 
had  entered  on  the  sport  with  his  usual  zest,  but  it  had 
soon  declined,  and  he  wished  he  had  remained  at  home. 
He  remembered  the  children's  intention  of  spending  the 
day  among  the  maples,  and  as  the  sun  grew  warm,  and  the 
air  balmy,  the  thought  occurred  with  increasing  frequency 
that  he  might  have  induced  Amy  to  join  them,  and  so  have 
enjoyed  long  hours  of  companionship  under  circumstances 
most  favorable  to  his  suit.  He  now  admitted  that  were  the 
river  alive  with  ducks,  the  imagined  opportunities  of  the 
maple  grove  were  tenfold  more  attractive.  At  one  time  he 
half  decided  to  return,  but  pride  prevented  until  he  should 
have  secured  a  fair  amount  of  game.  He  would  not  go 
home  to  be  laughed  at.  Moreover,  Amy  had  not  been  so 
approachable  of  late  as  he  could  wish,  and  he  proposed  to 
punish  her  a  little,  hoping  that  she  would  miss  his  presence 
and  attentions.  The  many  reminiscences  at  the  supper- 
table  were  not  consoling.  It  was  evident  that  he  had  not 
been  missed  in  the  way  that  He  desired  to  be,  and  that  the 


188  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

day  had  been  one  of  rich  enjoyment  to  her.  Neither  was 
Webb's  quiet  satisfaction  agreeable,  and  Burt  mildly  an 
athematized  himself  at  the  thought  that  he  might  have 
had  his  share  in  giving  Amy  so  much  pleasure,  fle  took 
counsel  of  experience,  however,  and  having  learned  that 
even  duck-shooting  under  the  most  favorable  auspices 
palled  when  contrasted  with  Amy's  smiles  and  society,  he 
resolved  to  be  present  in  the  future  when  she,  like  Nature, 
was  in  a  propitious  mood.  Impetuous  as  he  was,  he  had 
not  yet  reached  the  point  of  love's  blindness  which  would 
lead  him  to  press  his  suit  in  season  and  out  of  season.  He 
soon  found  a  chance  to  inform  Amy  of  his  regret,  but  she 
laughed  merrily  back  at  him  as  she  went  up  to  her  room, 
saying  that  the  air  of  a  martyr  sat  upon  him  with  very  poor 
grace  in  view  of  his  success  and  persistence  in  the  sport,  and 
that  he  had  better  put  a  white  mark  against  the  day,  as  she 
had  done. 

Early  in  the  evening  Dr.  Marvin  appeared,  with  Mr. 
Marks,  one  of  the  most  noted  duck-shooters  and  fishermen 
on  the  river,  and  they  brought  in  three  superb  specimens  of 
a  rare  bird  in  this  region,  the  American  swan,  that  queen 
of  water- fowls  and  embodiment  of  grace. 

"Shot  'em  an  hour  or  two  ago,  near  Polopel's  Island," 
said  Mr.  Marks,  "and  we  don't  often  have  the  luck  to  get 
within  range  of  such  game.  Dr.  Marvin  was  down  visiting 
one  of  my  children,  and  he  said  how  he  would  like  to  pre-^ 
pare  the  skin  of  one,  and  he  thought  some  of  you  folks 
here  might  like  to  have  another  mounted,  and  he'd  do  it  if 
you  wished." 

Exclamations  of  pleasure  followed  this  proposition.  Alf 
examined  them  with  deep  interest,  while  Burt  whispered  to 
Amy  that  he  would  rather  have  brought  her  home  a  swan 
like  one  of  those  than  all  the  ducks  that  ever  quacked. 

In  accordance  with  their  hospitable  ways,  the  Cliffords 
soon  had  the  doctor  and  Mr.  Marks  seated  by  their  fireside, 
and  the  veteran  sportsman  was  readily  induced  to  enlarge 
upon  some  of  his  experiences. 


REGRETS   AND   DUCK-SHOOTING  189 

He  had  killed  two  of  the  swans,  he  told  them,  as  they 
were  swimming,  and  the  other  as  it  rose.  He  did  not  propose 
to  let  any  such  uncommon  visitors  get  away.  He  had  never 
seen  more  than  ten  since  he  had  lived  in  this  region.  With 
the  proverbial  experience  of  meeting  game  when  without  a 
gun,  he  had  seen  five  fly  over,  one  Sunday,  while  taking 
a  ramble  on  Plum  Point. 

"Have  you  ever  obtained  any  snow-geese  in  our  waters?" 
Dr.  Marvin  asked. 

"No.  That's  the  scarcest  water-fowl  we  have.  Once  in 
a  wild  snowstorm  I  saw  a  flock  of  about  two  hundred  far  out 
upon  the  river,  and  would  have  had  a  shot  into  them,  but 
some  fellows  from  the  other  side  started  out  and  began  fir 
ing  at  long  range,  and  that  has  been  my  only  chance.  I  oc 
casionally  get  some  brant-geese,  and  they  are  rare  enough. 
I  once  saw  a  flock  of  eight,  and  got  them  all — took  five  out 
of  the  flock  in  the  first  two  shots — but  I've  never  killed 
more  than  twenty-five  in  all." 

"I  don't  think  I  have  ever  seen  one,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Clifford,  who,  in  her  feebleness  and  in  her  home-nook, 
loved  to  hear  about  these  bold,  adventurous  travellers. 
They  brought  to  her  vivid  fancy  remote  wild  scenes,  deso 
late  waters,  and  storm-beaten  rocks.  The  tremendous  en 
durance  and  power  of  wing  in  these  shy  children  of  nature 
never  ceased  to  be  marvels  to  her.  "Burt  has  occasionally 
shot  wild-geese — we  have  one  mounted  there — but  I  do  not 
know  what  a  brant  is,  nor  much  about  its  habits,"  she 
added. 

"Its  markings  are  like  the  ordinary  Canada  wild-goose," 
Dr.  Marvin  explained,  "and  it  is  about  midway  in  size  be 
tween  a  goose  and  a  duck.  " 

"I've  shot  a  good  many  of  the  common  wild-geese  in 
my  time,'  Mr.  Marks  resumed;  "killed  nineteen  four  years 
ago.  I  once  knocked  down  ten  out  of  a  flock  of  thirteen  by 
giving  them  both  barrels.  I  have  a  flock  of  eight  now  in  a 
pond  not  far  away — broke  their  wings,  you  know,  and  so  they 
can't  fly.  They  soon  become  tame,  and  might  be  domesti- 


190  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

cated  easily,  only  you  must  always  keep  one  wing  cut,  or 
they  will  leave  in  the  spring  or  fall." 

"How  is  that?" 

"Well,  they  never  lose  their  instinct  to  migrate,  and  if 
they  heard  other  wild-geese  flying  over,  they'd  rise  quick 
enough  if  they  could  and  go  with  them." 

"Do  you  think  there  would  be  any  profit  in  domesticat 
ing  them?"  asked  practical  Leonard. 

"There  might  be.  I  know  a  man  up  the  river  who  used 
to  cross  them  with  our  common  geese,  and  so  produced  a 
hybrid,  a  sort  of  a  mule-goose,  that  grew  very  large.  I've 
known  'em  to  weigh  eighteen  pounds  or  more,  and  they 
•were  fine  eating,  I  can  tell  you.  I  don't  suppose  there  is 
much  in  it,  though,  or  some  cute  Yankee  would  have  made 
a  business  of  it  before  this." 

"How  many  ducks  do  you  suppose  you  have  shot  all  to 
gether?"  Mr.  Clifford  asked. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know — a  great  many.  Killed  five  hundred 
last  fall." 

"What's  the  greatest  number  you  ever  got  out  of  a  flock, 
Marks?"  put  in  Burt. 

"Well,  there  is  the  old  squaw,  or  long-tailed  duck. 
They  go  in  big  flocks,  you  now — have  seen  four  or  five 
hundred  together.  In  the  spring,  just  after  they  have 
come  from  feeding  on  mussels  in  the  southern  oyster-beds,' 
they  are  fishy,  but  in  the  fall  they  are  much  better,  and  the 
young  ducks  are  scarcely  fishy  at  all.  I've  taken  twenty-three 
out  of  a  flock  by  firing  at  them  in  the  water  and  again  when 
they  rose;  and  in  the  same  way  I  once  knocked  over  eighteen 
black  or  dusky  ducks;  and  they  are  always  fine,  you  know." 

"Are  the  fancy  kinds,  like  the  mallards  and  canvas- 
backs  that  are  in  such  demand  by  the  epicures,  still  plenti 
ful  in  their  season  ?"  Webb  asked. 

"No.  I  get  a  few  now  and  then,  but  don't  calculate  on 
them  any  longer.  It  was  my  luck  with  canvas-backs  that 
got  me  into  my  duck-shooting  ways.  I  was  cuffed  and  patted 
on  the  back  the  same  day  on  their  account. ' ' 


REGRETS    AND    DUCK-SHOOTING  191 

In  response  to  their  laughing  expressions  of  curiosity  he 
resumed:  "I  was  but  a  little  chap  at  the  time;  still  1  be 
lieved  I  could  shoot  ducks,  but  my  father  wouldn't  trust 
me  with  either  a  gun  or  boat,  and  my  only  chance  was  to 
circumvent  the  old  man.  So  one  night  I  hid  the  gun  out 
side  the  house,  climbed  out  of  a  window  as  soon  as  it  was 
light,  and  paddled  round  a  point  where  I  would  not  be 
seen,  and  I  tell  you  I  had  a  grand  time.  I  did  not  come  in 
till  the  middle  of  the  afternoon,  but  I  reached  a  point  when 
I  must  have  my  dinner,  no  matter  what  came  before  it. 
The  old  man  was  waiting  for  me,  and  he  cuffed  me  well. 
I  didn't  say  a  word,  but  went  to  my  mother,  and  she, 
mother-like,  comforted  me  with  a  big  dinner  which  she 
had  kept  for  me.  I  was  content  to  throw  the  cuffing  in, 
and  still  feel  that  I  had  the  best  of  the  bargain.  An  elder 
brother  began  to  chaff  me  and  ask,  'Where  are  your  ducks  ?' 
'Better  go  and  look  under  the  seat  in  the  stern-sheets  before 
you  make  any  more  faces,'  I  answered,  huffily.  I  suppose 
he  thought  at  first  I  wanted  to  get  rid  of  him,  but  he  had 
just  enough  curiosity  to  go  and  see,  and  he  pulled  out  six 
teen  canvas-backs.  The  old  man  was  reconciled  at  once, 
for  I  had  made  better  wages  than  he  that  day;  and  from 
that  time  on  I've  had  all  the  duck-shooting  I've  wanted." 

"That's  a  form  of  argument  to  which  the  world  always 
yields,"  said  Leonard,  laughing. 

"How  many  kinds  of  wild-ducks  do  we  have  here  in  the 
bay,  that  you  can  shoot  so  many  ?"  Maggie  asked. 

"I've  never  counted  'em  up.  The  doctor  can  tell  you, 
perhaps." 

"I've  prepared  the  skins  of  twenty-four  different  kinds 
that  were  shot  in  this  vicinity,"  replied  Dr.  Marvin. 

"Don't  you  and  Mrs.  Marvin  dissect  the  birds  also?" 
queried  Leonard. 

"Mr.  Marks,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "I  think  you  once  had 
a  rather  severe  experience  while  out  upon  the  river.  Won't 
you  tell  us  about  it?" 

"Yes.     My  favorite  sport  came  nigh  being  the  death  of 


192  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

me,  and  it  always  makes  me  shiver  to  think  of  it.  I  started 
out  one  spring  morning  at  five  o'clock,  and  did  not  get  home 
till  two  o'clock  the  next  morning,  and  not  a  mouthful  did  I 
have  to  eat.  I  had  fair  success  during  the  day,  but  was 
bothered  by  the  quantities  of  ice  running,  and  a  high  wind. 
About  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  concluded  to  return 
home,  for  I  was  tired  and  hungry.  I  was  then  out  in  the 
river  off  Plum  Point.  I  saw  an  opening  leading  south,  and 
paddled  into  it,  but  had  not  gone  far  before  the  wind  drove 
the  ice  in  upon  me,  and  blocked  the  passage.  There  I  was, 
helpless,  and  it  began  to  blow  a  gale.  The  wind  held  the 
ice  immovable  on  the  west  shore,  even  though  the  tide  was 
running  out.  For  a  time  I  thought  the  boat  would  be 
crushed  by  the  grinding  cakes  in  spite  of  all  I  could  do. 
If  it  had,  I'd  'a  been  drowned  at  once,  but  I  worked  like  a 
Trojan,  shouting,  meanwhile,  loud  enough  to  raise  the  dead. 
No  one  seemed  to  hear  or  notice  me.  At  last  I  made  my 
way  to  a  cake  that  was  heavy  enough  to  bear  my  weight, 
and  on  this  I  pulled  up  the  boat,  and  lay  down  exhausted. 
It  was  now  almost  night,  and  I  was  too  tired  to  shout  any 
more.  There  on  that  mass  of  ice  I  stayed  till  two  o'clock 
the  next  morning.  I  thought  I'd  freeze  to  death,  if  I  did 
not  drown.  I  shouted  from  time  to  time,  till  I  found  it  was 
of  no  use,  and  then  gave  my  thoughts  to  keeping  awake  an*d 
warm  enough  to  live.  I  knew  that  my  chance  would  be 
with  the  next  turn  of  the  tide,  when  the  ice  would  move 
with  it,  and  also  the  wind,  up  the  river.  So  it  turned  out. 
I  was  at  last  able  to  break  my  way  through  the  loosened  ice 
to  Plum  Point,  and  then  had  a  two-mile  walk  home;  and  I 
can  tell  you  that  it  never  seemed  so  like  home  before." 

"Oh,  Burt,  please  don't  go  out  again  when  the  ice  is 
running,"  was  his  mother's  comment  on  the  story. 

"Thoreau  speaks  of  seeing  black  ducks  asleep  on  a  pond 
whereon  thin  ice  had  formed,  inclosing  them,  during  the 
March  night,"  said  Webb.  "Have  you  ever  caught  them 
napping  in  this  way  ?" 

"No,"  replied  Mr.  Marks;  "though  it  might  easily  hap- 


REGRETS    AND    DUCK-SHOOTINQ  193 

pen  on  a  still  pond.  The  tides  and  wind  usually  break  up 
the  very  thin  ice  on  the  river,  and  if  there  is  any  open  water 
near,  the  ducks* will  stay  in  it."  . 

"Dr.  Marvin,  have  you  caught  any  glimpses  of  spring 
to-day  that  we  have  not?"  Amy  asked. 

The  doctor  laughed — having  heard  of  Webb's  exploit  in 
the  night  near  the  hennery — and  said:  "I  might  mention  that 
I  have  seen  "Sir  Mephitis'  cabbage,  as  I  suppose  I  should 
all  it,  growing  vigorously.  It  is  about  the  first  green  thing 
we  have.  Around  certain  springs,  however,  the  grass  keeps 
green  all  winter,  and  I  passed  one  to-day  surrounded  by  an 
emerald  hue  that  was  distinct  in  the  distance.  It  has  been 
very  cold  and  backward  thus  far." 

"Possess  your  souls  in  patience,"  said  Mr.  Clifford. 
"Springtime  and  harvest  are  sure.  After  over  half  a 
century's  observation  I  have  noted  that,  no  matter  what 
the  weather  may  have  been,  Nature  always  catches  up  with 
the  season  about  the  middle  or  last  of  June." 


Vol.  1       al 


NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

APRIL 

THE  remainder  of  March  passed  quickly  away,  with 
more  alternations  of  mood  than  there  were  days; 
but  in  spite  of  snow,  sleet,  wind,  and  rain,  the  most 
forbidding  frowns  and  tempestuous   tears,   all   knew   that 
Nature    had  yielded,    and   more   often   she   half-smilingly 
acknowledged  the  truth  herself. 

All  sights  and  sounds  about  the  farmhouse  betokened 
increasing  activity.  During  the  morning  hours  the  cackling 
in  the  barn  and  out- buildings  developed  into  a  perfect 
clamor,  for  the  more  commonplace  the  event  of  a  new-born 
egg  became,  the  greater  attention  the  hens  inclined  to  call 
to  it.  Possibly  they  also  felt  the  spring-time  impulse  of  all 
the  feathered  tribes  to  use  their  voice  to  the  extent  of  its 
compass.  The  clatter  was  music  to  Alf  and  Johnnie,  how 
ever,  for  gathering  the  eggs  was  one  of  their  chief  sources 
of  revenue,  and  the  hunting  of  nests — stolen  so  cunningly 
and  cackled  over  so  sillily — with  their  accumulated  treas 
ures  was  like  prospecting  for  mines.  The  great  basketful 
they  brought  in  daily  after  their  return  from  school  proved 
that  if  the  egg  manufactory  ran  noisily,  it  did  not  run  in 
vain.  Occasionally  their  father  gave  them  a  peep  into  the 
dusky  brooding- room.  Under  his  thrifty  management  the 
majority  of  the  nests  were  simply  loose  boxes,  each  inscribed 
with  a  number.  When  a  biddy  wished  to  sit,  she  was  re 
moved  at  night  upon  the  nest,  and  the  box  was  placed  on 
a  low  shelf  in  the  brooding-room.  If  she  remained  quiet 
and  contented  in  the  new  location,  eggs  were  placed  under 


APRIL  195 

her,  a  note  of  the  number  of  the  box  was  taken,  with  the 
date,  and  the  character  of  the  eggs,  if  they  represented  any 
special  breed.  By  these  simple  precautions  little  was  left 
to  what  Squire  Bartley  termed  "luck."  Some  of  the  hens 
had  been  on  the  nest  nearly  three  weeks,  and  eagerly  did 
the  children  listen  for  the  first  faint  peep  that  should  an 
nounce  the  senior  chick  of  the  year. 

Webb  and  Burt  had  already  opened  the  campaign  in  the 
garden.  On  the  black  soil  in  the  hot-bed,  which  had  been 
made  in  a  sheltered  nook,  were  even  now  lines  of  cabbage, 
cauliflower,  lettuce,  tomatoes,  etc.  These  nursling  vegeta 
bles  were  cared  for  as  Maggie  had  watched  her  babies.  On 
mild  sunny  days  the  sash  was  shoved  down  and  air  given. 
High  winds  and  frosty  nights  prompted  to  careful  covering 
and  tucking  away.  The  Cliffords  were  not  of  those  who 
believe  that  pork,  cabbage,  and  potatoes  are  a  farmer's 
birthright,  when  by  a  small  outlay  of  time  and  skill  every 
delicacy  can  be  enjoyed,  even  in  advance  of  the  season. 
On  a  warm  slope  from  which  the  frost  ever  took  its  earliest 
departure,  peas,  potatoes,  and  other  hardy  products  of  the 
garden  were  planted,  and  as  the  ground  grew  firm  enough, 
the  fertilizers  of  the  barn-yard  were  carted  to  the  designated 
places,  whereon,  by  Nature's  alchemy,  they  would  be  trans 
muted  into  forms  of  use  and  beauty. 

It  so  happened  that  the  1st  of  April  was  an  ideal  spring 
day.  During  the  morning  the  brow  of  Storm  King,  still 
clothed  with  snow,  was  shrouded  in  mist,  through  which 
the  light  broke  uncertainly  in  gleams  of  watery  sunshine. 
A  succession  of  showers  took  place,  but  so  slight  and  mild 
that  they  were  scarcely  heeded  by  the  busy  workers;  there 
was  almost  a  profusion  of  half- formed  rainbows;  and  atmos 
phere  and  cloud  so  blended  that  it  was  hard  to  say  where 
one  began  and  the  other  ceased.  On  every  twig,  dead  weed, 
and  spire  of  withered  grass  hung  innumerable  drops  that 
now  were  water  and  again  diamonds  when  touched  by  the 
inconstant  sun.  Sweet- fern  grass  abounded  in  the  lawn,  and 
from  it  exuded  an  indescribably  delicious  odor.  The  birds 


196  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

were  so  ecstatic  in  their  songs,  so  constant  in  their  calls, 
that  one  might  think  that  they,  like  the  children,  were 
making  the  most  of  All-fools'  Day,  and  playing  endless 
pranks  on  each  other.  The  robins  acted  as  if  nothing  were 
left  to  be  desired.  They  were  all  this  time  in  all  stages  of 
relationship.  Some  had  already  paired,  and  were  at  work 
upon  their  domiciles,  but  more  were  in  the  blissful  and 
excited  state  of  courtship,  and  their  conversational  notes, 
wooings,  and  pleadings,  as  they  warbled  the  pros  and  cons, 
were  quite  different  from  their  matin  and  vesper  songs. 
Not  unfrequently  there  were  two  aspirants  for  the  same 
claw  or  bill,  and  the  rivals  usually  fought  it  out  like  their 
human  neighbors  in  the  olden  time,  the  red-breasted  object 
of  their  affections  standing  demurely  aloof  on  the  sward, 
quietly  watching  the  contest  with  a  sidelong  look,  undoubt 
edly  conscious,  however,  of  a  little  feminine  exultation  that 
she  should  be  sought  thus  fiercely  by  more  than  one.  After 
all,  the  chief  joy  of  the  robin  world  that  day  resulted  from 
the  fact  that  the  mild,  humid  air  lured  the  earth-worms 
from  their  burrowing,  and  Amy  laughed  more  than  once 
as,  from  her  window,  she  saw  a  little  gourmand  pulling  at 
a  worm,  which  clung  so  desperately  to  its  hole  that  the  bird 
at  last  almost  fell  over  backward  with  its  prize.  Courtship, 
nest- building,  family  cares— nothing  disturbs  a  robin's  ap 
petite,  and  it  was,  indeed,  a  sorry  fools'-day  for  myriads  of 
angle-worms  that  ventured  out. 

Managing  a  country  place  is  like  sailing  a  ship:  one's 
labors  are,  or  should  be,  much  modified  by  the  weather. 
This  still  day,  when  the  leaves  were  heavy  with  moisture, 
afforded  Webb  the  chance  he  had  desired  to  rake  the  lawn 
and  other  grass-plots  about  the  house,  and  store  the  material 
for  future  use.  He  was  not  one  to  attempt  this  task  when 
the  wind  would  half  undo  his  labor. 

In  the  afternoon  the  showery  phase  passed,  and  the  sun 
shone  with  a  misty  brightness.  Although  so  early  in  a 
backward  spring,  the  day  was  full  of  the  suggestion  of 
wild  flowers,  and  Amy  and  the  children  started  on  their 


APRIL  197 

first  search  into  Nature's  calendar  of  the  seasons.  All  knew 
where  to  look  for  the  earliest  blossoms,  and  in  the  twilight 
the  explorers  returned  with  handfuls  of  hepatica  and  ar 
butus  buds,  which,  from  experience,  they  knew  would 
bloom  in  a  vase  of  water.  Who  has  ever  forgotten  his 
childish  exultation  over  the  first  wild  flowers  of  the  year! 
Pale,  delicate  little  blossoms  though  they  be,  and  most  of 
them  odorless,  their  memory  grows  sweet  with  our  age. 

Burt,  who  had  been  away  to  purchase  a  horse — he  gave 
considerable  of  his  time  to  the  buying  and  selling  of  these 
animals — drove  up  as  Amy  approached  the  house,  and 
pleaded  for  a  spray  of  arbutus. 

"But  the  buds  are  not  open  yet,"  she  said. 

"No  matter;  I  should  value  the  spray  just  as  much, 
since  you  gathered  it." 

"Why,  Burt,"  she  cried,  laughing,  "on  that  principle 
I  might  as  well  give  you  a  chip. "  But  she  gave  him  the 
buds  and  escaped. 

"Amy"  Webb  asked  at  the  supper-table,  "didn't  you 
hear  the  peepers  this  afternoon  while  out  walking?"' 

"Yes;  and  I  asked  Alf  what  they  were.  He  said  they 
were  peepers,  and  that  they  always  made  a  noise  in  the 
spring." 

"Why,  Alf,"  Webb  resumed,  in  mock  gravity,  "you 
should  have  told  Amy  that  the  sounds  came  from  the 
Hylodes  pickeringii. ' ' 

"If  that  is  all  that  you  can  tell  me,"  said  Amy,  laugh 
ing,  "I  prefer  Alf's  explanation.  I  have  known  people  to 
cover  up  their  ignorance  by  big  words  before.  Indeed,  I 
think  it  is  a  way  you  scientists  have." 

"I  must  admit  it;  and  yet  that  close  observer,  John 
Burroughs,  gives  a  charming  account  of  these  little  frogs 
that  we  call  'hylas'  for  short.  Shy  as  they  are,  and  quick 
to  disappear  when  approached,  he  has  seen  them,  as  they 
climb  out  of  the  mud  upon  a  sedge  or  stick  in  the  marshes, 
inflate  their  throats  until  they  'suggest  a  little  drummer- boy 
with  his  drum  hung  high.'  In  this  bubble-like  swellingyat 


198  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

its  throat  the  noise  is  made;  and  to  me  it  is  a  welcome  note 
of  spring,  although  I  have  heard  people  speak  of  it  as  one 
of  the  most  lonesome  and  melancholy  of  sounds.  It  is  a 
commmon  saying  among  old  farmers  that  the  peepers  must 
be  shut  up  three  times  by  frost  before  we  can  expect  steady 
spring  weather.  I  believe  that  naturalists  think  these  little 
mites  of  frogs  leave  the  mud  and  marshes  later  on,  and 
become  tree- toads.  Let  me  give  you  a  hint,  Alf.  Try  to 
find  out  what  you  can  at  once  about  the  things  you  see 
or  hear:  that's  the  way  to  get  an  education." 

"May  I  not  take  the  hint  also  ?"  Amy  asked. 

"Please  don't  think  me  a  born  pedagogue,"  he  answered, 
smiling;  "but  you  have  no  idea  how  fast  we  obtain  knowl 
edge  of  certain  kinds  if  we  follow  up  the  object-lessons  pre 
sented  every  day." 


EASTER  199 


CHAPTER  XXV 

EASTER 

EASTER-SUNDAY  came  early  in  the  month,  and 
there  had  been  great  preparations  for  it,  for  with 
the  Cliffords  it  was  one  of  the  chief  festivals  of  the 
year.  To  the  children  was  given  a  week's  vacation,  and 
they  scoured  the  woods  for  all  the  arbutus  that  gave  any 
promise  of  opening  in  time.  Clumps  of  bloodroot,  hepati- 
cas,  dicentras,  dog-tooth  violets,  and  lilies-of-the-valley  had 
been  taken  up  at  the  first  relaxation  of  frost,  and  forced 
in  the  flower-room.  Hyacinth  and  tulip  bulbs,  kept  back 
the  earlier  part  of  the  winter,  were  timed  to  bloom  artifi 
cially  at  this  season  so  sacred  to  flowers,  and,  under  Mrs. 
Clifford's  fostering  care,  all  the  exotics  of  the  little  con 
servatory  had  been  stimulated  to  do  their  best  to  grace  the 
day.  On  Saturday  afternoon  Mr.  Barkdale's  pulpit  was 
embowered  with  plants  and  vines  growing  in  pots,  tubs, 
and  rustic  boxes,  and  the  good  man  beamed  upon  the  work, 
gaining  meanwhile  an  inspiration  that  would  put  a  soul 
into  his  words  on  the  morrow. 

No  such  brilliant  morning  dawned  on  the  worship  of  the 
Saxon  goddess  Eostre,  in  cloudy,  forest-clad  England  in 
the  centuries  long  past,  as  broke  over  the  eastern  moun 
tains  on  that  sacred  day.  At  half- past  five  the  sun  appeared 
above  the  shaggy  summit  of  the  Beacon,  and  the  steel  hues 
of  the  placid  Hudson  were  changed  into  sparkling  silver. 
A  white  mist  rested  on  the  water  between  Storm  King, 
Break  Neck,  and  Mount  Taurus.  In  the  distance  it  ap 
peared  as  if  snow  had  drifted  in  and  half  filled  the  gorge 


200  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

of  the  Highlands.  The  orange  and  rose- tinted  sky  grad 
ually  deepened  into  an  intense  blue,  and  although  the  land 
was  as  bare  and  the  forests  were  as  gaunt  as  in  December, 
a  soft  glamour  over  all  proclaimed  spring. 

Spring  was  also  in  Amy's  eyes,  in  the  oval  delicacy  of 
her  girlish  face  with  its  exquisite  flush,  in  her  quick,  deft 
hands  and  elastic  step  as  she  arranged  baskets  and  vases 
of  flowers.  Webb  watched  her  with  his  deep  eyes,  and  his 
Easter  worship  began  early  in  the  day.  True  homage  it 
was,  because  so  involuntary,  so  unquestioning  and  devoid 
of  analysis,  so  utterly  free  from  the  self-conscious  spirit 
that  expects  a  large  and  definite  return  for  adoration.  His 
sense  of  beauty,  the  poetic  capabilities  of  his  nature,  were 
kindled.  Like  the  flowers  that  seemed  to  know  their  place 
in  a  harmony  of  color  when  she  touched  them,  Amy  herself 
was  emblematic  of  Easter,  of  its  brightness  and  hopefulness, 
of  the  new,  richer  spiritual  life  that  was  coming  to  him. 
He  loved  his  homely  work  and  calling  as  never  before, 
because  he  saw  how  on  every  side  it  touched  and  blended 
with  the  beautiful  and  sacred.  Its  highest  outcome  was 
like  the  blossoms  before  him  which  had  developed  from 
a  rank  soil,  dark  roots,  and  prosaic  woody  stems.  The 
grain  he  raised  fed  and  matured  the  delicate  human  per 
fection  shown  in  every  graceful  and  unconscious  pose  of 
the  young  girl.  She  was  Nature's  priestess  interpreting 
to  him  a  higher,  gentler  world  which  before  he  had  seen 
but  dimly — interpreting  it  all  the  more  clearly  because  she 
made  no  effort  to  reveal  it.  She  led  the  way,  he  followed, 
and  the  earth  ceased  to  be  an  aggregate  of  forms  and  ma 
terial  forces.  With  his  larger  capabilities  he  might  yet  be 
come  her  master,  but  now,  with  an  utter  absence  of  vanity, 
he  recognized  bow  much  she  was  doing  for  him,  how  she 
was  widening  his  horizon  and  uplifting  his  thoughts  and 
motives,  and  he  reverenced  her  as  such  men  ever  do  a 
woman  that  leads  them  to  a  higher  plane  of  life. 

No  such  deep  thoughts  and  vague  homage  perplexed 
Burt  as  he  assisted  Amy  with  attentions  that  were  assid- 


EASTER  201 

uous  and  almost  garrulous.  The  brightness  of  the  morning 
was  in  his  handsome  face,  and  the  gladness  of  his  buoyant 
temperament  in  his  heart.  Amy  was  just  to  his  taste — 
pretty,  piquant,  rose-hued,  and  a  trifle  thorny  too,  at  times, 
he  thought.  He  believed  that  he  loved  her  with  a  bound 
less  devotion — at  least  it  seemed  so  that  morning.  It  was 
delightful  to  be  near  her,  to  touch  her  fingers  occasionally 
as  he  handed  her  flowers,  and  to  win  smiles,  arch  looks,  and 
even  words  that  contained  a  minute  prick  like  spines  on 
the  rose  stems.  He  felt  sure  that  his  suit  would  prosper  in 
time,  and  she  was  all  the  more  fascinating  because  showing 
no  sentimental  tendencies  to  respond  with  a  promptness 
that  in  other  objects  of  his  attention  in  the  past  had  even 
proved  embarrassing.  She  was  a  little  conscious  of  Webb's 
silent  observation,  and,  looking  up  suddenly,  caught  an 
expression  that  deepened  her  color  slightly. 

"That  for  your  thoughts,"  she  said,  tossing  him  a  flower 
with  sisterly  freedom. 

"Webb  is  pondering  deeply,"  explained  the  observant 
Burt,  "on  the  reflection  of  light  as  shown  not  only  by  the 
color  in  these  flowers,  but  also  in  your  cheeks  under  his 
fixed  stare."  . 

There  was  an  access  of  rose-hued  reflection  at  these 
words,  but  Webb  rose  quietly  and  said:  "If  you  will  let 
me  keep  the  flower  I  will  tell  you  my  thoughts  another 
time.  They  were  quite  suitable  for  Easter  morning.  That 
basket  is  now  ready,  and  I  will  take  it  to  the  church." 

Burt  was  soon  despatched  with  another,  while  she  and 
Johnnie,  who  had  been  flitting  about,  eager  and  interested, 
followed  with  light  and  delicate  vases.  To  their  surprise, 
Mr.  Alvord  intercepted  them  near  the  church  vestibule.  He 
had  never  been  seen  at  any  place  of  worship,  and  the  re 
serve  and  dignity  of  his  manner  had  prevented  the  most 
zealous  from  interfering  with  his  habits.  From  the  porch 
of  his  cottage  he  had  seen  Amy  and  the  little  girl  approach 
ing  with  their  floral  offerings.  Nature's  smile  that  morning 
had  softened  his  bitter  mood,  and,  obeying  an  impulse  to 


202  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

look  nearer  upon  two  beings  that  belonged  to  another  world 
than  his,  he  joined  them,  and  asked: 

"Won't  you  let  me  see  your  flowers  before  you  take 
them  into  the  church?" 

"Certainly,"  said  Amy,  cordially;  "but  there  are  love 
lier  ones  on  the  pulpit;  won't  you  come  in  and  see  them  ?" 

He  shook  his  head. 

*'What!"  cried  Johnnie,  "not  going  to  church  to-day?" 
She  had  lost  much  of  her  fear  of  him,  for  in  his  rambles  he 
frequently  met  her  and  Alf,  and  usually  spoke  to  them. 
Moreover,  she  had  repeatedly  seen  him  at  their  fireside, 
and  he  ever  had  a  smile  for  her.  The  morbid  are  often 
fearless  with  children,  believing  that,  like  the  lower  orders 
of  life,  they  have  little  power  to  observe  that  anything  is 
amiss,  and  therefore  are  neither  apt  to  be  repelled  nor  curi 
ous  and  suspicious.  This  in  a  sense  is  true,  and  yet  their 
instincts  are  keen.  But  Mr.  Alvord  was  not  selfish  or 
coarse;  above  all  he  was  not  harsh.  To  Johnnie  he  only 
seemed  strange,  quiet,  and  unhappy,  and  she  had  often 
heard  her  mother  say,  "Poor  Mr.  Alvord  1"  Therefore, 
when  he  said,  "I  don't  go  to  church;  if  I  had  a  little  girl 
like  you  to  sit  by  me,  I  might  feel  differently,"  her  heart 
was  touched,  and  she  replied,  impulsively:  "I'll  sit  by  you, 
Mr.  Alvord.  I'll  sit  with  you  all  by  ourselves,  if  you  will 
only  go  to  church  to-day.  Why,  it's  Easter." 

"Mr.  Alvord,"  said  Amy,  gently,  "that's  an  unusual 
offer  for  shy  Johnnie  to  make.  You  don't  know  what  a 
compliment  you  have  received,  and  I  think  you  will  make 
the  child  very  happy  if  you  comply." 

"Could  I  make  you  happier  by  sitting  with  you  in  church 
to-day  ?"  he  asked,  in  a  low  voice,  offering  the  child  his  hand. 

"Yes,"  she  replied,  simply. 

"Come,  then.  You  lead  the  way,  for  you  know  best 
Where  to  go."  She  gave  her  vase  to  Amy,  and  led  him 
into  a  side  seat  near  her  father's  pew — one  that  she  had  noted 
as  unoccupied  of  late.  "It's  early  yet.  Do  you  mind  sitting 
here  until  service  begins?"  he  asked. 


EASTER  203 

"Oh,  no.  I  like  to  sit  here  and  look  at  the  flowers;" 
and  the  first  comers  glanced  wonderingly  at  the  little  girl 
and  her  companion,  who  was  a  stranger  to  them  and  to  the 
sanctuary.  Amy  explained  matters  to  Leonard  and  Maggie 
at  the  door  when  they  arrived,  and  Easter- Sunday  had  new 
and  sweeter  meanings  to  them. 

The  spring  had  surely  found  its  way  into  Mr.  Barkdale's 
sermon  also,  and  its  leaves,  as  he  turned  them,  were  not 
autumn  leaves,  which,  even  though  brilliant,  suggest  death 
and  sad  changes.  One  of  his  thoughts  was  much  com 
mented  upon  by  the  Cliffords,  when,  in  good  old  country 
style,  the  sermon  was  spoken  of  at  dinner.  "The  God  we 
worship,"  he  said,  "is  the  God  of  life,  of  nature.  In  his 
own  time  and  way  he  puts  forth  his  power.  We  can  em 
ploy  this  power  and  make  it  ours.  Many  of  you  will  do  this 
practically  during  the  coming  weeks.  You  sow  seed,  plant 
trees,  and  seek  to  shape  others  into  symmetrical  form  by 
pruning-knife  and  saw.  What  is  your  expectation?  Why, 
that  the  great  power  that  is  revivifying  nature  will  take  up 
the  work  here  you  leave  off,  and  carry  it  forward.  All  the 
skill  and  science  in  the  world  could  not  create  a  field  of 
waving  grain,  nor  all  the  art  of  one  of  these  flowers.  How 
immensely  the  power  of  God  supplements  the  labor  of  man 
in  those  things  which  minister  chiefly  to  his  lower  nature! 
Can  you  believe  that  he  will  put  forth  so  much  energy  that 
the  grain  may  mature  and  the  flower  bloom,  and  yet  not  exert 
far  greater  power  than  man  himself  may  develop  according 
to  the  capabilities  of  his  being  ?  The  forces  now  exist  in  the 
earth  and  in  the  air  to  make  the  year  fruitful,  but  you  must 
intelligently  avail  yourselves  of  them.  You  must  sow,, 
plant,  and  cultivate.  The  power  ever  exists  that  can  re 
deem  us  from  evil,  heal  the  wounds  that  sin  has  made,  and 
develop  the  manhood  and  womanhood  that  Heaven  receives 
and  rewards.  With  the  same  resolute  intelligence  you  must 
lay  hold  upon  this  ever-present  spiritual  force  if  you  would 
be  lifted  up." 

After  the  service  there  were  those  who  would  ostenta- 


204  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

tiously  recognize  and  encourage  Mr.  Alvord;  but  the  Clif 
fords,  with  better  breeding,  quietly  and  cordially  greeted 
him,  and  that  was  all.  At  the  door  he  placed  Johnnie's 
hand  in  her  mother's,  and  gently  said,  "Good- by;"  but 
the  pleased  smile  of  the  child  and  Mrs.  Leonard  followed 
him.  As  he  entered  his  porch,  other  maternal  eyes  rested 
upon  him,  and  the  brooding  bluebird  on  her  nest  seemed 
to  say,  with  Johnnie,  "I  am  not  afraid  of  you."  Possibly  to 
the  lonely  man  this  may  prove  Easter- Sunday  in  very  truth, 
and  hope,  that  he  had  thought  buried  forever,  come  from 
its  grave. 

In  the  afternoon  all  the  young  people  started  for  the  hills, 
gleaning  the  earliest  flowers,  and  feasting  their  eyes  on  the 
sunlit  landscapes  veiled  with  soft  haze  from  the  abundant 
moisture  with  which  the  air  was  charged.  As  the  sun  sank 
low  in  the  many-hued  west,  and  the  eastern  mountains 
clothed  themselves  in  royal  purple,  Webb  chanced  to  be 
alone,  near  Amy,  and  she  said: 

"You  have  had  that  flower  all  day,  and  I  have  not  had 
your  thoughts."  • 

"Oh,  yes,  you  have — a  great  many  of  them." 

"You  know  that  isn't  what  I  mean.  You  promised  to 
tell  me  what  you  were  thinking  about  so  deeply  this 
morning." 

He  looked  at  her  smilingly  a  moment,  and  then  his  face 
grew  gentle  and  grave  as  he  replied:  "I  can  scarcely  ex 
plain,  Amy.  1  am  learning  that  thoughts  which  are  not 
clear-cut  and  definite  may  make  upon  us  the  strongest  im 
pressions.  They  cause  us  to  feel  that  there  is  much  that  we 
only  half  know  and  half  understand  as  yet.  You  and  your 
flowers  seemed  to  interpret  to  me  the  meaning  of  this  day  as 
I  never  understood  it  before.  Surely  its  deepest  significance 
is  life,  happy,  hopeful  life,  with  escape  from  its  grosser  ele 
ments,  and  as  you  stood  there  you  embodied  that  idea." 

"Oh,  Webb,"  she  cried,  in  comic  perplexity,  "you  are 
getting  too  deep  for  me.  I  was  only  arranging  flowers,  and 
not  thinking  about  embodying  anything.  But  go  on." 


EASTER  205 

"If  you  had  been,  you  would  have  spoiled  everything," 
he  resumed,  laughing.  "I  can't  explain;  I  can  only  sug 
gest  the  rest  in  a  sentence  or  two.  Look  at  the  shadow 
creeping  up  yonder  mountain — very  dark  blue  on  the  lower 
side  of  the  moving  line  and  deep  purple  above.  Listen  to 
these  birds  around  us.  Well,  every  day  I  see  and  hear  and 
appreciate  these  things  better,  and  I  thought  that  you  were 
to  blame. ' ' 

"Am  I  very  much  to  blame  ?"  she  inquired,  archly. 

"Yes,  very  much,"  was  his  laughing  answer.  "It  seems 
to  me  that  a  few  months  since  I  was  like  the  old  man  with 
the  muck-rake  in  'Pilgrim's  Progress,'  seeking  to  gather 
only  money,  facts,  and  knowledge — things  of  use.  I  now 
am  finding  so  much  that  is  useful  which  1  scarcely  looked 
at  before  that  I  am  revising  my  philosophy,  and  like  it 
much  better.  The  simple  truth  is,  I  needed  just  such  a 
sister  as  you  are  to  keep  me  from  plodding." 

Bart  now  appeared  with  a  handful  of  rue-anemones,  ob 
tained  by  a  rapid  climb  to  a  very  sunny  nook.  They  were 
the  first  of  the  season,  and  he  justly  believed  that  Amy 
would  be  delighted  with  them.  But  the  words  of  Webb 
were  more  treasured,  for  they  filled  her  with  a  pleased  won 
der.  She  had  seen  the  changes  herself  to  which  he  referred; 
but  how  could  a  simple  girl  wield  such  an  influence  over  the 
grave,  studious  man  ?  That  was  the  puzzle  of  puzzles.  It 
was  an  enigma  that  she  would  be  long  in  solving,  and  yet 
the  explanation  was  her  own  simplicity,  her  truthfulness  to 
all  the  conditions  of  unaffected  girlhood. 

On  the  way  to  the  house  Webb  delighted  Johnnie  and 
Alf  by  gathering  sprays  of  the  cherry,  peach,  pear,  and 
plum,  saying,  "Put  them  in  water  by  a  sunny  window, 
and  see  which  will  bloom  first,  these  sprays  or  the  trees 
out-of-doors."  The  supper- table  was  graced  by  many 
woodland  trophies — the  "tawny  pendants"  of  the  alder 
that  Thoreau  said  dusted  his  coat  with  sulphur-like  pol 
len  as  he  pressed  through  them  to  "look  for  mud-turtles," 
pussy  willows  now  well  developed,  the  hardy  ferns,  arbutus, 


206  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

and  other  harbingers  of  spring,  while  the  flowers  that  had 
been  brought  back  from  the  church  filled  the  room  with 
fragrance.  To  gentle  Mrs.  Clifford,  dwelling  as  she  ever 
must  among  the  shadows  of  pain  and  disease,  this  was  the 
happiest  day  of  the  year,  for  it  pointed  forward  to  immortal 
youth  and  strength,  and  she  loved  to  see  it  decked  and  gar 
landed  like  a  bride.  And  so  Easter  passed,  and  became  a 
happy  memory. 


VERY   MOODY  207- 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

VERY   MOODY 

THE  next  morning  Amy,  on  looking  from  her  window, 
could  scarcely  believe  she  was  awake.  She  had  re 
tired  with  her  mind  full  of  spring  and  spring-time 
beauty,  but  the  world  without  had  now  the  aspect  of  Janu 
ary.  The  air  was  one  swirl  of  snow,  and  trees,  buildings — 
everything  was  white.  In  dismay  she  hastened  to  join  the 
family,  but  was  speedily  reassured. 

"There  is  nothing  monotonous  in  American  weather,  and 
you  must  get  used  to  our  sharp  alternations,"  said  Mr.  Clif 
ford.  "This  snow  will  do  good  rather  than  harm,  and  the 
lawn  will  actually  look  green  after  it  has  melted,  as  it  will 
speedily.  The  thing  we  dread  is  a  severe  frost  at  a  far  later 
date  than  this.  The  buds  are  still  too  dormant  to  be  in 
jured,  but  I  have  known  the  apples  to  be  frozen  on  the  trees 
when  as  large  as  walnuts." 

"Such  snows  are  called  the  poor  man's  manure,"  Webb 
remarked,  "and  fertilizing  gases,  to  a  certain  amount,  do 
become  entangled  in  the  large  wet  flakes,  and  so  are  carried 
into  the  soil.  But  the  poor  man  will  assuredly  remain  poor 
if  he  has  no  other  means  of  enriching  his  land.  What  a 
contrast  to  yesterday!  The  house  on  the  northeast  side 
looks  as  if  built  of  snow,  so  evenly  is  it  plastered  over.  I 
pity  the  birds.  They  have  scarcely  sung  this  morning,  and 
they  look  as  if  thoroughly  disgusted." 

Amy  and  Johnnie  shared  in  the  birds'  disapproval,  but 
Alf  had  a  boy's  affinity  for  snow,  and  resolved  to  construct 
an  immense  fort  as  soon  as  the  storm  permitted.  Before  the 


208  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

day  had  far  declined  the  heavy  flakes  ceased,  and  the  gusty 
wind  died  away.  Johnnie  forgot  the  budding  flowers  in 
their  winding-sheet,  and  joyously  aided  in  the  construction 
of  the  fort.  Down  the  sloping  lawn  they  rolled  the  snow 
balls,  that  so  increased  with  every  revolution  that  they  soon 
rose  above  the  children's  heads,  and  Webb  and  Burt's  good- 
natured  help  was  required  to  pile  them  into  ramparts.  At 
the  entrance  of  the  stronghold  an  immense  snow  sentinel  was 
fashioned,  with  a  cord-wood  stick  for  a  musket.  The  chil 
dren  fairly  sighed  for  another  month  of  winter. 

All  night  long  Nature,  in  a  heavy  fall  of  rain,  appeared 
to  weep  that  she  had  been  so  capricious,  and  the  morning 
found  her  in  as  uncomfortable  a  mood  as  could  be  imagined. 
The  slush  was  ankle-deep,  with  indefinite  degrees  of  mud 
beneath,  the  air  chilly  and  raw,  and  the  sky  filled  with  great 
ragged  masses  of  cloud,  so  opaque  and  low  that  they  ap 
peared  as  if  disrupted  by  some  dynamic  force,  and  threat 
ened  to  fall  upon  the  shadowed  land.  But  between  them 
the  sun  darted  many  a  smile  at  his  tear-stained  mistress. 
At  last  they  took  themselves  off  like  ill-affected  meddlers 
in  a  love  match,  and  the  day  grew  bright  and  warm.  By 
evening,  spring,  literally  and  figuratively,  had  more  than 
regained  lost  ground,  for,  as  Mr.  Clifford  had  predicted,  the 
lawn  had  a  distinct  emerald  hue.  Thenceforth  the  season 
moved  forward  as  if  there  were  to  be  no  more  regrets  and 
nonsense.  An  efficient  ally  in  the  form  of  a  southwest  wind 
came  to  the  aid  of  the  sun,  and  every  day  Nature  responded 
with  increasing  favor.  Amy  no  more  complained  that  an 
American  April  was  like  early  March  in  England;  and  as 
the  surface  of  the  land  grew  warm  and  dry  it  was  hard  for 
her  to  remain  in- doors,  there  was  so  much  of  life,  bustle, 
and  movement  without.  Buds  were  swelling  on  every  side. 
Those  of  the  lilac  were  nearly  an  inch  long,  and  emitted  a 
perfume  of  the  rarest  delicacy,  far  superior  to  that  of  the 
blossoms  to  come.  The  nests  of  the  earlier  birds  were  in 
all  stages  of  construction,  and  could  be  seen  readily  in  the 
leafless  trees.  Snakes  were  crawling  from  their  holes,  and 


VERY  MOODY  209 

lay  sunning  themselves  in  the  roads,  to  her  and  Johnnie's 
dismay.  Alf  captured  turtles  that,  deep  in  the  mud,  had 
learned  the  advent  of  spring  as  readily  as  the  creatures  of 
the  air.  The  fish  were  ascending  the  swollen  streams. 
"Each  rill,"  as  Thoreau  wrote,  "is  peopled  with  new  life 
rushing  up  it."  Abram  and  Alf  were  planning  a  moment 
ous  expedition  to  a  tumbling  dam  on  the  Moodna,  the  favor 
ite  resort  of  the  sluggish  suckers.  New  chicks  were  daily 
breaking  their  shells,  and  their  soft,  downy,  ball-like  little 
bodies  were  more  to  Amy's  taste  than  the  peepers  of  the 
marsh. 

One  Saturday  morning  Alf  rushed  in,  announcing  with 
breathless  haste  that  "Kitten  had  a  calf."  Kitten  was  a 
fawn-colored  Alderney,  the  favorite  of  the  barnyard,  and  so 
gentle  that  even  Johnnie  did  not  fear  to  rub  her  rough  nose, 
scratch  her  between  her  horns,  or  bring  her  wisps  of  grass 
when  she  was  tied  near  the  house.  Her  calf  was  unlike  all 
other  calves.  There  was  no  rest  until  Amy  had  seen  it,  and 
she  admitted  that  she  had  never  looked  upon  a  more  inno 
cent  and  droll  little  visage.  At  the  children's  pleading  the 
infant  cow  was  given  to  them,  but  they  were  warned  to 
leave  it  for  the  present  to  Abram  and  Kitten's  care,  for  the 
latter  was  inclined  to  act  like  a  veritable  old  cat  when  any 
one  made  too  free  with  her  bovine  baby. 

This  bright  Saturday  occurring  about  the  middle  of  the 
month  completely  enthroned  spring  in  the  children's  hearts. 
The  air  was  sweet  with  fragrance  from  the  springing  grass 
and  swelling  buds,  and  so  still  and  humid  that  sounds  from 
other  farms  and  gardens,  and  songs  from  distant  fields  and 
groves,  blended  softly  yet  distinctly  with  those  of  the  im 
mediate  vicinage.  The  sunshine  was  warm,  but  veiled  by 
fleecy  clouds;  and  as  the  day  advanced  every  member  of 
the  family  was  out-of-doors,  even  to  Mrs.  Clifford,  for 
whom  had  been  constructed,  under  her  husband's  direc 
tion,  a  low  garden-chair  which  was  so  light  that  even  Alf 
or  Amy  could  draw  it  easily  along  the  walks.  J?rom  it  she 
stepped  down  on  her  first  visit  of  the  year  to  her  beloved 


210  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

flower-beds,  which  Alf  and  Burt  were  patting  in  order  for 
her,  the  latter  blending  with  his  filial  attentions  the  hope  of 
seeing  more  of  Amy.  Nor  was  he  unrewarded,  for  his  man 
ner  toward  his  mother,  whom  he  alternately  petted  and 
chaffed,  while  at  the  same  time  doing  her  bidding  with 
manly  tenderness,  won  the  young  girl's  hearty  good-will. 
The  only  drawback  was  his  inclination  to  pet  her  furtively 
even  more.  She  wished  that  Webb  was  preparing  the 
flower-beds,  for  then  there  would  be  nothing  to  perplex 
or  worry  her.  But  he,  with  his  father  and  Leonard,  was 
more  prosaically  employed,  for  they  were  at  work  in  the 
main  or  vegetable  garden.  It  was  with  a  sense  of  immense 
relief  that  she  heard  Mrs.  Clifford,  after  she  had  given  her 
final  directions,  and  gloated  over  the  blooming  crocuses 
and  daffodils,  and  the  budding  hyacinths  and  tulips,  ex 
press  a  wish  to  join  her  husband. 

"Come  back  soon,"  pleaded  Burt. 

"I'm  your  mother's  pony  to-day,"  she  replied,  and  has 
tened  away.  A  wide  path  bordered  on  either  side  by  old- 
fashioned  perennials  and  shrubbery  led  down  through  the 
garden.  Amy  breathed  more  freely  as  soon  as  she  gained 
it,  and  at  once  gave  herself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  the 
pleasing  sights  and  sounds  on  every  side.  Mr.  Clifford  was 
the  picture  of  placid  content  as  he  sat  on  a  box  in  the  sun, 
cutting  potatoes  into  the  proper  size  for  planting.  Johnnie 
was  perched  on  another  box  near,  chattering  incessantly  as 
she  handed  him  the  tubers,  and  asking  no  other  response 
than  the  old  gentleman's  amused  smile.  Leonard  with  a 
pair  of  stout  horses  was  turning  up  the  rich  black  mould, 
sinking  his  plow  to  the  beam,  and  going  twice  in  a  furrow. 
It  would  require  a  very  severe  drought  to  affect  land  pulver 
ized  thus  deeply,  for  under  Leonard's  thorough  work  the 
root  pasturage  was  extended  downward  eighteen  inches. 
On  the  side  of  the  plot  nearest  to  the  house  Webb  was 
breaking  the  lumps  and  levelling  the  ground  with  a  heavy 
iron-toothed  rake,  and  also  forking  deeply  the  ends  of  the 
furrows  that  had  been  trampled  by  the  turning  horses. 


VERY   MOODY  211 

Leaving  Mrs.  Clifford  chatting  and  laughing  with  her  hus 
band  and  Johnnie,  Amy  stood  in  the  walk  opposite  to  him, 
and  he  said  presently: 

"Come,  Amy,  you  can  help  me.  You  said  you  wanted 
a  finger  in  our  horticultural  pies,  and  no  doubt  had  in  your 
mind  nothing  less  plebeian  than  flower  seeds  and  roses. 
Will  your  nose  become  retrousse  if  I  ask  you  to  aid  me  in 
planting  parsnips,  oyster-plant,  carrots,  and — think  of  it! — 
onions?" 

"The  idea  of  my  helping  you,  when  the  best  I  can  do  is 
to  amuse  you  with  my  ignorance!  But  I'll  put  on  no  airs. 
I  do  not  look  forward  to  an  exclusive  diet  of  roses,  and  am 
quite  curious  to  know  what  part  I  can  have  in  earning  my 
daily  vegetables." 

"A  useful  and  typical  part — that  of  keeping  straight 
men  and  things  in  general.  Wait  a  little;"  and  taking  up 
a  coiled  garden  line,  he  attached  one  end  of  it  to  a  stout 
stake  pressed  firmly  into  the  ground.  He  then  walked 
rapidly  over  the  levelled  soil  to  the  further  side  of  the 
plot,  drew  the  line  "taut,"  as  the  sailors  say,  and  tied  it 
to  another  stake.  He  next  returned  toward  Amy,  making 
a  shallow  drill  by  drawing  a  sharp-pointed  hoe  along  under 
the  line.  From  a  basket  near,  containing  labelled  packages 
of  seeds,  he  made  a  selection,  and  poured  into  a  bowl  some 
thing  that  looked  like  gunpowder  grains,  and  sowed  it 
rapidly  in  the  little  furrow.  "Now,  Amy,"  Decried,  from 
the  further  side  of  the  plot,  "do  you  see  that  measuring- 
stick  at  your  feet  ?  Place  one  end  of  it  against  the  stake  to 
which  the  line  is  fastened,  and  move  the  stake  with  the  line 
forward  to  the  other  end  of  the  measuring-stick,  just  as  I  am 
doing  here.  That's  it.  You  now  see  how  many  steps  you 
save  me,  and  how  much  faster  I  can  get  on. " 

"Are  those  black-looking  grains  you  are  sowing  seed?" 

"Indeed  they  are,  as  a  few  weeks  may  prove  to  you  by 
more  senses  than  one.  These  are  the  seeds  of  a  vegetable  in 
separable  in  its  associations  from  classic  Italy  and  renowned 
in  sacred  story.  You  may  not  share  in  the  longings  of  the 


212  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

ancient  Hebrews,  but  with  its  aid  I  could  easily  bring  tears 
of  deep  feeling  to  your  eyes." 

"The  vegetable  is  more  pungent  than  your  wit,  Webb," 
she  laughed;  but  she  stood  near  the  path  at  the  end  of  the 
line,  which  she  moved  forward  from  time  to  time  as  re 
quested,  meanwhile  enjoying  an  April  day  that  lacked  few 
elements  of  perfection. 

The  garden  is  one  of  the  favorite  haunts  of  the  song- 
sparrow.  In  the  flower-border  near,  Amy  would  hear  such 
a  vigorous  scratching  among  the  leaves  that  she  might  well 
believe  that  a  motherly  hen  was  at  work,  but  presently  one 
of  these  little  sober-coated  creatures  that  Thoreau  well  calls 
a  "ground-bird"  would  fly  to  the  top  of  a  plum-tree  and 
trill  out  a  song  as  sweet  as  the  perfume  that  came  from 
the  blossoming  willows  not  far  away.  The  busy  plows  made 
it  a  high  festival  for  the  robins,  for  with  a  confidence  not 
misplaced  they  followed  near  in  the  furrows  that  Leonard 
was  making  in  the  garden,  and  that  Abram  was  turning  on 
an  adjacent  hillside,  and  not  only  the  comparatively  harm 
less  earth-worms  suffered,  but  also  the  pestiferous  larvae  of 
the  May-beetle,  the  arch-enemy  of  the  strawberry-plant. 
Even  on  that  day  of  such  varied  and  etherealized  fragrance, 
the  fresh,  wholesome  odor  of  the  upturned  earth  was  grate 
ful.  Suddenly  Webb  straightened  himself  from  the  sowing 
of  the  scale- like  parsnip-seed  in  which  he  was  then  engaged, 
and  said,  "L^ten."  Remote  yet  distinct,  like  a  dream  of 
a  bird-song,  came  a  simple  melody  from  a  distant  field. 
"Welcome,"  he  said.  "That's  our  meadow-lark,  Amy; 
not  equal  to  your  skylark,  I  admit.  Indeed,  it  is  not  a 
lark  at  all,  for  Dr.  Marvin  says  it  belongs  to  the  oriole 
family.  Brief  and  simple  as  is  its  song,  I  think  you  will 
agree  with  me  that  spring  brings  few  more  lovely  sounds. 
That  is  the  first  one  that  I  have  heard  this  year." 

She  scarcely  more  than  caught  the  ethereal  song  before 
Burt  and  Alf  came  down  the  path,  trundling  immense 
wheelbarrow-loads  of  the  prunings  of  the  shrubbery  around 
the  house.  These  were  added  to  a  great  pile  of  brush  and 


VERY  MOODY  213 

refuse  that  had  accumulated  on  the  other  side  of  the  walk, 
and  to  A  If  was  given  the  wild  excitement  of  igniting  the 
inflammable  mass,  and  soon  there  was  a  fierce  crackling  as 
the  flames  devoured  their  way  into  the  loose  dry  centre  of 
the  rejected  debris  of  the  previous  year.  Then  to  Alf  and 
Johnnie's  unmeasured  delight  they  were  permitted  to  im 
provise  a  miniature  prairie  fire.  A  part  of  the  garden  had 
been  left  to  grow  very  weedy  in  the  preceding  summer, 
and  they  were  shown  how  that  by  lighting  the  dry,  dead 
material  on  the  windward  side,  the  flames,  driven  by  a 
gentle  western  breeze,  would  sweep  across  the  entire  plot, 
leaving  it  bare  and  blackened,  ready  for  the  fertilizers  and 
the  plow.  With  merry  cries  they  followed  the  sweeping 
line  of  fire,  aiding  it  forward  by  catching  up  on  iron  rakes 
burning  wisps  and  transferring  them  to  spots  in  the  weedy 
plot  that  did  not  kindle  readily.  Little  Ned,  clinging  to  the 
hand  of  Maggie,  who  had  joined  the  family  in  the  garden, 
looked  on  with  awe-struck  eyes.  From  the  bonfire  and  the 
consuming  weeds  great  volumes  of  smoke  poured  up  and 
floated  away,  the  air  was  full  of  pungent  odors,  and  the 
robins  called  vociferously  back  and  forth  through  the  gar 
den,  their  alarmed  and  excited  cries  vying  with  the  chil 
dren's  shouts.  In  half  an  hour  only  a  faint  haze  of  smoke 
to  the  eastward  indicated  the  brief  conflagration;  the  family 
had  gone  to  the  house  for  their  one-o'clock  dinner,  and  the 
birds  were  content  with  the  normal  aspect  of  the  old  garden 
in  April. 

The  promise  of  the  bright  spring  day  was  not  fulfilled. 
Cold  rains  followed  by  frosty  mornings  and  high  cool  winds 
prevailed  with  depressing  persistency.  It  required  almost 
as  much  vigor,  courage,  and  activity  as  had  been  essential 
in  March  to  enjoy  out- door  life.  In  many  of  her  aspects 
Nature  appeared  almost  to  stand  still  and  wait  for  more 
genial  skies,  and  yet  for  those  who  watched  to  greet  and 
to  welcome,  the  mighty  impulse  of  spring  manifested  itself 
in  many  ways.  The  currant  and  gooseberry  bushes,  as  if 
remembering  their  original  haunts  in  dim,  cold,  boggy 


forests,  put  forth  their  foliage  without  hesitation.  From 
the  elm-trees  swung  the  little  pendent  blossoms  that  pre 
cede  the  leaves.  The  lilacs  and  some  other  hardy  shrubs 
grew  green  and  fragrant  daily.  Nothing  daunted,  the  cro 
cuses,  hyacinths,  and  tulips  pushed  upward  their  succulent 
leaves  with  steady  resolution.  In  the  woods  the  flowers 
had  all  kinds  of  experiences.  On  the  north  side  of  Storm 
King  it  was  still  winter,  with  great  areas  of  December's 
ice  unmelted.  On  the  south  side  of  the  mountain,  spring 
almost  kept  pace  with  the  calendar.  The  only  result  was 
that  the  hardy  little  children  of  April,  on  which  had  hung 
more  snow-flakes  than  dew,  obtained  a  longer  lease  of 
blooming  life,  and  could  have  their  share  in  garlanding 
the  May  Queen.  They  bravely  faced  the  frosty  nights  and 
drenching  rains,  becoming  types  of  those  lives  whose  beauty 
is  only  enhanced  by  adversity — of  those  who  make  better 
use  of  a  little  sunny  prosperity  to  bless  the  world  than  others 
on  whom  good-fortune  ever  seems  to  wait. 

The  last  Saturday  of  the  month  was  looked  forward  to 
with  hopeful  expectations,  as  a  genial  earnest  of  May,  and 
a  chance  for  out-door  pleasures;  but  with  it  came  a  dismal 
rain-storm,  which  left  the  ground  as  cold,  wet,  and  sodden 
as  it  had  been  a  month  before.  The  backward  season,  of 
which  the  whole  country  was  now  complaining,  culminated 
on  the  following  morning,  which  ushered  in  a  day  of  re 
markable  vicissitude.  By  rapid  transition  the  rain  passed 
into  sleet,  then  snow,  which  flurried  down  so  rapidly  that 
the  land  grew  white  and  wintry,  making  it  almost  impos 
sible  to  imagine  that  two  months  of  spring  had  passed. 
By  10  A.M.  the  whirling  flakes  ceased,  but  a  more  sullen, 
leaden,  March-like  sky  never  lowered  over  a  cold,  dripping 
earth.  On  the  north  side  of  the  house  a  white  hyacinth  was 
seen  hanging  its  pendent  blossoms  half  in  and  half  out  of 
the  snow,  and  Alf,  who  in  response  to  Dr.  Marvin's  sug 
gestion  was  following  some  of  the  family  fortunes  among 
the  homes  in  the  trees,  came  in  and  said  that  he  had  found 
nests  well  hidden  by  a  covering  all  too  cold,  with  the  reso- 


VERY  MOODY  215 

lute  mother  bird  protecting  her  eggs,  although  chilled,  wet, 
and  shivering  herself.  By  1  P.M.  the  clouds  grew  thin, 
rolled  away,  and  disappeared.  The  sun  broke  out  with 
a  determined  warmth  and  power,  and  the  snow  vanished 
like  a  spectre  of  the  long-past  winter.  The  birds  took 
heart,  and  their  songs  of  exultation  resounded  from  far 
and  near.  A  warm  south  breeze  sprang  up  and  fanned 
Amy's  cheek,  as  she,  with  the  children  and  Burt,  went 
out  for  their  usual  Sunday- afternoon  walk.  They  found 
the  flowers  looking  up  hopefully,  but  with  melted  snow 
hanging  like  tears  on  their  pale  little  faces.  The  sun  at 
last  sank  into  the  unclouded  west,  illumining  the  sky  with 
a  warm,  golden  promise  for  the  future.  Amy  gazed  at  its 
departing  glory,  but  Burt  looked  at  her — looked  so  ear 
nestly,  so  wistfully,  that  she  was  full  of  compunction  even 
while  she  welcomed  the  return  of  the  children,  which  de 
layed  the  words  that  were  trembling  on  his  lips.  He  was 
ready,  she  was  not;  and  he  walked  homeward  at  her  side 
silent  and  depressed,  feeling  that  the  receptive,  responsive 
spring  was  later  in  her  heart  than  in  Nature. 


216  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

SHAD-FISHING   BY   PROXY 

ACCORDING-  to  the  almanac,  May  was  on  time  to  a 
second,  but  Nature  seemed  unaware  of  the  fact. 
Great  bodies  of  snow  covered  the  Adirondack  re 
gion,  and  not  a  little  still  remained  all  the  way  southward 
through  the  Catskills  and  the  Highlands,  about  the  head 
waters  of  the  Delaware,  and  its  cold  breath  benumbed  the 
land.  Johnnie's  chosen  intimates  had  given  her  their  suf 
frages  as  May  Queen;  but  prudent  Maggie  had  decided  that 
the  crowning  ceremonies  should  not  take  place  until  May 
truly  appeared,  with  its  warmth  and  floral  wealth.  There 
fore,  on  the  first  Saturday  of  the  month,  Leonard  planned  a 
half-holiday,  which  should  not  only  compensate  the  disap 
pointed  children,  but  also  give  his  busy  wife  a  little  outing. 
He  had  learned  that  the  tide  was  right  for  crossing  the  shal 
lows  of  the  Moodna  Creek,  and  they  would  all  go  fishing. 
Johnnie's  friends  and  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Marvin  were  invited, 
and  great  were  the  preparations.  Reed  and  all  kinds  of 
poles  were  taken  down  from  their  hooks,  or  cut  in  a  neigh 
boring  thicket,  the  country  store  was  depleted  of  its  stock 
of  rusty  hooks,  and  stray  corks  were  fastened  on  the  brown 
linen  lines  for  floats.  Burt  disdained  to  take  his  scientific 
tackle,  and  indeed  there  was  little  use  for  it  in  Moodna  Creek, 
but  he  joined  readily  in  the  frolic.  He  would  be  willing  to  fish 
indefinitely  for  even  minnows,  if  at  the  same  time  there  was 
a  chance  to  angle  for  Amy.  Some  preferred  to  walk  to  the 
liver,  and  with  the  aid  of  the  family  rockaway  the  entire 
party  were  at  the  boat-house  before  the  sun  had  passed  much 


SHAD-FISHING   BY   PROXY  217 

beyond  the  meridian.  Bart,  from  his  intimate  knowledge 
of  the  channel,  acted  as  pilot,  and  was  jubilant  over  the  fact 
that  Amy  consented  to  take  an  oar  with  him  and  receive  a 
lesson  in  rowing.  Mrs.  Marvin  held  the  tiller-ropes,  and 
the  doctor  was  to  use  a  pair  of  oars  when  requested  to  do 
so.  Webb  and  Leonard  took  charge  of  the  larger  boat,  of 
which  Johnnie,  as  hostess,  was  captain,  and  a  jolly  group 
of  little  boys  and  girls  made  the  echoes  ring,  while  Ned, 
with  his  thumb  in  his  mouth,  clung  close  to  his  mother,  and 
regarded  the  nautical  expedition  rather  dubiously.  They 
swept  across  the  flats  to  the  deeper  water  near  Plum  Point, 
and  so  up  the  Moodna,  whose  shores  were  becoming  green 
with  the  rank  growth  of  the  bordering  marsh.  Passing 
under  an  old  covered  bridge  they  were  soon  skirting  an 
island  from  which  rose  a  noble  grove  of  trees,  whose  swollen 
buds  were  only  waiting  for  a  warmer  caress  of  the  sun  to  un 
fold.  Returning,  they  beached  their  boats  below  the  bridge, 
under  whose  shadow  the  fish  were  fond  of  lying.  The  little 
people  were  disembarked,  and  placed  at  safe  distances;  for, 
if  near,  they  would  surely  hook  each  other,  if  never  a  fin. 
Silence  was  enjoined,  and  there  was  a  breathless  hush  for 
the  space  of  two  minutes;  then  began  whispers  more  reso 
nant  than  those  of  the  stage,  followed  by  acclamations  as 
Johnnie  pulled  up  a  wriggling  eel,  of  which  she  was  in 
mortal  terror.  They  all  had  good  sport,  however,  for  the 
smaller  fry  of  the  finny  tribes  that  haunted  the  vicinity  of 
the  old  bridge  suffered  from  the  well-known  tendency  of  ex 
treme  youth  to  take  everything  into  its  mouth.  Indeed,  at 
that  season,  an  immature  sun-fish  will  take  a  hook  if  there 
is  but  a  remnant  of  a  worm  upon  it.  The  day  was  good  for 
fishing,  since  thin  clouds  darkened  the  water.  Amy  was 
the  heroine  of  the  party,  for  Burt  had  furnished  her  with  a 
long,  light  pole,  and  taught  her  to  throw  her  line  well  away 
from  the  others.  As  a  result  she  soon  took,  amidst  excited 
plaudits,  several  fine  yellow  perch.  At  last  Leonard  shouted: 
' '  You  shall  not  have  all  the  honors,  Amy.  I  have  a  hook 
in  my  pocket  that  will  catch  bigger  fish  than-you  have  seen 

Vol.  1       aj 


218  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

to-day.  Come,  the  tide  is  going  out,  and  we  must  go  out 
of  the  creek  with  it  unless  we  wish  to  spend  the  night  on  a 
sand- bar.  I  shall  now  try  my  luck  at  shad-fishing  over  by 
Polopel's  Island. " 

The  prospect  of  crossing  the  river  and  following  the 
drift-nets  down  into  the  Highlands  was  a  glad  surprise  to 
all,  and  they  were  soon  in  Newburgh  Bay,  whose  broad 
lake-like  surface  was  unruffled  by  a  breath.  The  sun,  de 
clining  toward  the  west,  scattered  rose-hues  among  the 
clouds.  Sloops  and  schooners  had  lost  steerage-way,  and 
their  sails  flapped  idly  against  the  masts.  The  grind  of 
oars  between  the  thole-pins  came  distinctly  across  the  water 
from  far-distant  boats,  while  songs  and  calls  of  birds,  faint 
and  etherealized,  reached  them  from  the  shores.  Eowing 
toward  a  man  rapidly  paying  out  a  net  from  the  stern  of  his 
boat  they  were  soon  hailed  by  Mr.  Marks,  who  with  genial 
good-nature  invited  them  to  see  the  sport.  He  had  begun 
throwing  his  net  over  in  the  middle  of  the  river,  his  oars 
man  rowing  eastward  with  a  slight  inclination  toward  the 
south,  for  the  reason  that  the  tide  is  swifter  on  the  western 
side.  The  aim  is  to  keep  the  net  as  straight  as  possible  and 
at  right  angles  with  the  tide.  The  two  boats  were  soon  fol 
lowing  Mr.  Marks  on  either  side,  the  smooth  water  and  the 
absence  of  wind  enabling  them  to  keep  near  and  converse 
without  effort.  Away  in  their  wake  bobbed  the  cork  floats 
in  an  irregular  line,  and  from  these  floats,  about  twenty  feet 
below  the  surface,  was  suspended  the  net,  which  extended 
down  thirty  or  forty  feet  further,  being  kept  in  a  vertical 
position  by  iron  rings  strung  along  its  lower  edge  at  regular 
intervals.  Thus  the  lower  side  of  the  net  was  from  fifty  to 
sixty  feet  below  the  surface.  In  shallow  water  narrower 
nets  are  rigged  to  float  vertically  much  nearer  the  surface. 
Mr.  Marks  explained  that  his  net  was  about  half  a  mile 
long,  adding, 

"It's  fun  fishing  on  a  day  like  this,  but  it's  rather  tough 
in  a  gale  of  wind,  with  your  eyes  half  blinded  by  rain,  and 
the  waves  breaking  into  your  boat.  Yes,  we  catch  just  as 


SHAD-FISHING    BY  PROXY  219 

many  then,  perhaps  more,  for  there  are  fewer  men  out,  and 
I  suppose  the  weather  is  always  about  the  same,  except  as  to 
temperature,  down  where  the  shad  are.  The  fish  don't  mind 
wet  weather;  neither  must  we  if  we  make  a  business  of 
catching  them." 

"Do  you  always  throw  out  your  net  from  the  west  shore 
toward  the  east  ?' '  Webb  asked. 

"No,  we  usually  pay  out  against  the  wind.  With  the 
wind  the  boat  is  apt  to  go  too  fast.  The  great  point  is  to 
keep  the  net  straight  and  not  all  tangled  and  wobbled  up. 
Passing  boats  bother  us,  too.  Sometimes  a  float  will  catch 
on  a  paddle-wheel,  and  like  enough  half  of  the  net  will  be 
torn  away.  A  pilot  with  any  human  feeling  will  usually 
steer  one  side,  and  give  a  fellow  a  chance,  and  we  can  often 
bribe  the  skipper  of  sailing-craft  by  holding  up  a  shad  and 
throwing  it  aboard  as  he  tacks  around  us.  As  a  rule,  how 
ever,  boats  of  all  kinds  pass  over  a  net  without  doing  any 
harm.  Occasionally  a  net  breaks  from  the  floats  and  drags 
on  the  bottom.  This  is  covered  with  cinders  thrown  out  by 
steamers,  and  they  play  the  mischief." 

"Do  the  fish  swim  against  the  tide?" 

"Usually,  but  they  come  in  on  both  sides." 

"Mr.  Marks,  how  can  you  catch  fish  in  a  net  that  is 
straight  up  and  down?"  Amy  asked. 

"You'll  soon  see,  but  I'll  explain.  The  meshes  of  the 
net  will  stretch  five  inches.  A  shad  swims  into  one  of  these 
and  then,  like  many  others  that  go  into  things,  finds  he  can't 
back  out,  for  his  gills  catch  on  the  sides  of  the  mesh  and 
there  he  hangs.  Occasionally  a  shad  will  just  tangle  him 
self  up  and  so  be  caught,  and  sometimes  we  take  a  large 
striped  bass  in  this  way." 

In  answer  to  a  question  of  Burt's  he  continued:  "I  just 
let  my  net  float  with  the  tide  as  you  see,  giving  it  a  pull 
from  one  end  or  the  other  now  and  then  to  keep  it  as  straight 
and  as  near  at  right  angles  with  the  river  as  possible.  When 
the  tide  stops  running  out  and  turns  a  little  we  begin  at  one 
end  of  the  net  and  pull  it  up,  taking  out  the  fish,  at  the  same 


220  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

time  laying  it  carefully  in  folds  on  a  platform  in  the  stern- 
sheets,  so  as  to  prevent  all  tangles.  If  the  net  comes  up 
clear  and  free,  I  may  throw  it  in  again  and  float  back  with 
the  tide.  So  far  from  being  able  to  depend  on  this,  we  often 
have  to  go  ashore  where  there  is  a  smooth  beach  before  our 
drift  is  over  and  disentangle  our  net.  There,  now,  I'm 
through  with  paying  out.  Haven't  you  noticed  the  floats 
bobbing  here  and  there  ?" 

"We've  been  too  busy  listening  and  watching  you,"  said 
Leonard. 

""Well,  now,  watch  the  floats.  If  you  see  one  bob  under 
and  wobble,  a  shad  has  struck  the  net  near  it,  and  I  can  go 
and  take  him  out.  In  smooth  water  it's  like  fishing  with 
one  of  your  little  cork  bobblers  there  on  your  lines.  I'll 
give  the  shad  to  the  first  one  that  sees  a  float  bob  under." 

Alf  nearly  sprang  out  of  the  boat  as  he  pointed  and 
shouted,  "There,  there." 

Laughing  good-naturedly,  Mr.  Marks  lifted  the  net  be 
neath  the  float,  and,  sure  enough,  there  was  a  great  roe-shad 
hanging  by  his  gills,  and  Alf  gloated  over  his  supper,  already 
secured. 

The  fish  were  running  well,  and  there  were  excited  calls 
and  frantic  pointings,  in  which  at  first  even  the  older  mem 
bers  of  the  party  joined,  and  every  few  moments  a  writhing 
shad  flashed  in  the  slanting  rays  as  it  was  tossed  into  the 
boat.  Up  and  down  the  long,  irregular  line  of  floats  the 
boats  passed  and  repassed  until  excitement  verged  toward 
satiety,  and  the  sun,  near  the  horizon,  with  a  cloud  canopy 
of  crimson  and  gold,  warned  the  merry  fishers  by  proxy  that 
their  boats  should  be  turned  homeward.  Leonard  pulled 
out  what  he  termed  his  silver  hook,  and  supplied  not  only 
the  Clifford  family,  but  all  of  Johnnie's  guests,  with  fish  so 
fresh  that  they  had  as  yet  scarcely  realized  that  they  were 
out  of  water. 

"Now,  Amy,"  said  Burt,  "keep  stroke  with  me,"  add 
ing,  in  a  whisper,  "no  fear  but  that  we  can  pull  well 
together." 


SHAD-FISHING    BY    PROXY  221 

Her  response  was,  "One  always  associates  a  song  with 
rowing.  Come,  strike  up,  and  let  us  keep  the  boats  abreast 
that  all  may  join." 

He,  well  content,  started  a  familiar  boating  song,  to 
which  the  splash  of  their  oars  made  musical  accompani 
ment.  A  passing  steamer  saluted  them,  and  a  moment 
later  the  boats  rose  gracefully  over  the  swells.  The  glassy 
river  flashed  back  the  crimson  of  the  clouds,  the  eastern 
slopes  of  the  mountains  donned  their  royal  purple,  the  in 
tervening  shadows  of  valleys  making  the  folds  of  their 
robes.  As  they  approached  the  shore  the  resonant  song 
of  the  robins  blended  with  the  human  voices.  Burt,  how 
ever,  heard  only  Amy's  girlish  soprano,  and  saw  but  the 
pearl  of  her  teeth  through  her  parted  lips,  the  rose  in  her 
cheeks,  and  the  snow  of  her  neck. 

Final  words  were  spoken  and  all  were  soon  at  home. 
Maggie  took  the  household  helm  with  a  fresh  and  vigorous 
grasp.  What  a  supper  she  improvised !  The  maids  never 
dawdled  when  she  directed,  and  by  the  time  the  hungry 
fishermen  were  ready,  the  shad  that  two  hours  before  had 
been  swimming  deep  in  the  Hudson  lay  browned  to  a  turn 
on  the  ample  platter.  "It  is  this  quick  transition  that  gives 
to  game  fish  their  most  exquisite  flavor,"  Burt  remarked. 

"Are  shad  put  down  among  the  game  fish?"  his  father 
asked. 

"Yes;  they  were  included  not  very  long  ago,  and  most 
justly,  too,  as  I  can  testify  to-night.  I  never  tasted  any 
thing  more  delicious,  except  trout.  If  a  shad  were  not  so 
bony  it  would  be  almost  perfection  when  eaten  under  the 
right  conditions.  Not  many  on  the  Hudson  are  aware  of 
the  fact,  perhaps,  but  angling  for  them  is  fine  sport  in  some 
rivers.  They  will  take  a  fly  in  the  Connecticut  and  Housa- 
tonic;  but  angle- worms  and  other  bait  are  employed  in  the 
Delaware  and  Southern  rivers.  The  best  time  to  catch  them 
is  early  in  the  morning,  and  from  six  to  eight  in  the  even 
ing.  At  dusk  one  may  -cast  for  them  in  still  water,  as  for 
trout.  The  Hudson  is  too  big,  I  suppose,  and  the  water  too 


222  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

deep,  although  I  see  no  reason  why  the  young  fry  should 
not  be  caught  in  our  river  as  well  as  in  the  Delaware.  I 
have  read  of  their  biting  voraciously  in  September  at  a  short 
distance  above  Philadelphia." 

"Do  you  mean  to  say  that  our  rivers  are  full  of  shad  in 
August  and  September?"  Leonard  asked. 

"Yes;  that  is,  of  young  shad  on  the  way  to  the  sea. 
The  females  that  are  running  up  now  will  spawn  in  the 
upper  and  shallow  waters  of  the  river,  and  return  to  the 
ocean  by  the  end  of  June,  and  in  the  autumn  the  small  fry 
will  also  go  to  the  sea,  the  females  to  remain  there  two 
years.  The  males  will  come  back  next  spring,  and  these 
young  males  are  called  'chicken  shad'  on  the  Connecticut. 
Multitudes  of  these  half-grown  fish  are  taken  in  seines,  and 
sold  as  herrings  or  'alewives';  for  the  true  herring  does  not 
run  up  into  fresh  water.  Young  shad  are  said  to  have 
teeth,  and  they  live  largely  on  insects,  while  the  full-grown 
fish  have  no  teeth,  and  feed  chiefly  on  animalcules  that  form 
the  greater  part  of  the  slimy  growths  that  cover  nearly 
everything  that  is  long  under  water." 

"Well,  I  never  had  so  much  shad  before  in  my  life," 
said  his  father,  laughing,  and  pushing  lack  his  chair;  "and, 
Burt,  I  have  enjoyed  those  you  have  served  up  in  the  water 
almost  as  much  as  those  dished  under  Maggie's  superin 
tendence." 

"I  should  suppose  that  the  present  mode  of  fishing  with 
drift-nets  was  cheaper  and  more  profitable  than  the  old 
method  of  suspending  the  nets  between  poles,"  Leonard 
remarked. 

"It  is  indeed,"  Burt  continued,  vivaciously,  for  he  ob 
served  that  Amy  was  listening  with  interest.  "Poles,  too, 
form  a  serious  obstruction.  Once,  years  ago,  I  was  stand 
ing  near  the  guards  of  a  steamboat,  when  I  heard  the  most 
awful  grating,  rasping  sound,  and  a  moment  later  a  shad- 
pole  gyrated  past  me  with  force  enough  to  brain  an  elephant 
had  it  struck  him.  It  was  good  fun,  though,  in  old  times  to 
go  out  and  see  them  raise  the  nets,  for  they  often  came  up 


SHAD-FISHING    BY   PROXY  223 

heavy  with  fish.  Strange  to  say,  a  loon  was  once  pulled 
up  with  the  shad.  Driven  by  fear,  it  must  have  dived  so 
vigorously  as  to  entangle  itself,  for  there  it  hung  with  its 
head  and  one  leg  fast.  I  suppose  that  the  last  moment  of 
consciousness  that  the  poor  bird  had  was  one  of  strong 
surprise." 


224  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 


M 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

MAY      AND      GIRLHOOD 

AY  came  in  reality  the  following  morning.  Perhaps 
she  thought  that  the  leisure  of  Sunday  would  secure 
her  a  more  appreciative  welcome.  The  wind  no 
longer  blew  from  the  chill  and  still  snowy  North,  but 
from  lands  that  had  long  since  responded  to  the  sun's 
genial  power.  Therefore,  the  breeze  that  came  and  went 
fitfully  was  like  a  warm,  fragrant  breath,  and  truly  it 
seemed  to  breathe  life  and  beauty  into  all  things.  During 
the  morning  hours  the  cluster  buds  of  the  cherry  burst 
their  varnished- looking  sheath,  revealing  one-third  of  the 
little  green  stems  on  which  the  blossoms  would  soon  ap 
pear.  The  currant-bushes  were  hanging  out  their  lengthen 
ing  racemes,  and  the  hum  of  many  bees  proved  that  honey 
may  be  gathered  even  from  gooseberry- bushes,  thus  sug 
gesting  a  genial  philosophy.  The  sugar-maples  were  begin 
ning  to  unfold  their  leaves  and  to  dangle  their  emerald  gold 
flowers  from  long,  drooping  pedicles.  Few  objects  have 
more  exquisite  and  delicate  beauty  than  this  inflorescence 
when  lighted  up  by  the  low  afternoon  sun.  The  meadows 
and  oat  fields  were  passing  into  a  vivid  green,  and  the 
hardy  rye  had  pushed  on  so  resolutely  in  all  weathers, 
that  it  was  becoming  billowy  under  the  wind.  All  through 
the  week  the  hues  of  life  and  beauty  became  more  and 
more  apparent  upon  the  face  of  Nature,  and  by  the  follow 
ing  Saturday  May  had  provided  everything  in  perfection 
for  Johnnie's  coronation  ceremonies. 

For  weeks  past  there   had   been  distinguished  arrivals 


MAY   AND    GIRLHOOD  225 

from  the  South  almost  daily.  Some  of  these  songsters,  like 
the  fox-sparrow,  sojourned  a  few  weeks,  favoring  all  listen 
ers  with  their  sweet  and  simple  melodies;  but  the  chief 
musician  of  the  American  forests,  the  hermit  thrush,  passed 
silently,  and  would  not  deign  to  utter  a  note  of  his  un 
rivalled  minstrelsy  until  he  had  reached  his  remote  haunts 
at  the  North.  Dr.  Marvin  evidently  had  a  grudge  against 
this  shy,  distant  bird,  and  often  complained,  "Why  can't 
he  give  us  a  song  or  two  as  he  lingers  here  in  his  journey  ? 
I  often  see  him  flitting  about  in  the  mountains,  and  have 
watched  him  by  the  hour  with  the  curiosity  that  prompts 
one  to  look  at  a  great  soprano  or  tenor,  hoping  that  he 
might  indulge  me  with  a  brief  song  as  a  sample  of  what 
he  could  do,  but  he  was  always-  royally  indifferent  and 
reserved.  I  am  going  to  the  Adirondacks  on  purpose  to 
hear  him  some  day.  There's  the  winter  wren,  too — saucy, 
inquisitive  little  imp ! — he  was  here  all  winter,  and  has  left 
us  without  vouchsafing  a  note.  But,  then,  great  singers  are 
a  law  unto  themselves  the  world  over." 

But  the  doctor  had  small  cause  for  complaint,  for  there 
are  few  regions  more  richly  endowed  with  birds  than  the 
valley  of  the  Hudson.  As  has  been  seen,  it  is  the  winter 
resort  of  not  a  few,  and  is,  moreover,  a  great  highway  of 
migration,  for  birds  are  ever  prone  to  follow  the  water 
courses  that  run  north  and  south.  The  region  also  affords 
so  wide  a  choice  of  locality  and  condition  that  the  tastes  of 
very  many  birds  are  suited.  There  are  numerous  gardens 
and  a  profusion  of  fruit  for  those  that  are  half  domesticated; 
orchards  abounding  in  old  tree's  with  knotholes,  admirably 
fitted  for  summer  homes;  elms  on  which  to  hang  the  grace 
ful  pensile  nests — "castles  in  air,"  as  Burroughs  calls  them; 
meadows  in  which  the  lark,  vesper  sparrow,  and  bobolink 
can  disport;  and  forests  stretching  up  into  the  mountains, 
wherein  the  shyest  birds  can  enjoy  all  the  seclusion  they 
desire,  content  to  sing  unheard,  as  the  flowers  around  them 
bloom  unseen,  except  by  those  who  love  them  well  enough 
to  seek  them  in  their  remotest  haunts. 


226  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

The  week  which  preceded  the  May  party  was  a  memor 
able  one  to  Amy,  for  during  its  sunny  days  she  saw  an 
American  spring  in  its  perfection.  Each  morning  brought 
rich  surprises  to  her,  Johnnie,  and  Alf,  and  to  Webb  an 
increasing  wonder  that  he  had  never  before  truly  seen 
the  world  in  which  he  lived.  The  pent-up  forces  of  Nature, 
long  restrained,  seemed  finding  new  expression  every  hour. 
Tulips  opened  their  gaudy  chalices  to  catch  the  morning 
dew.  Massive  spikes  of  hyacinths  distilled  a  rich  perfume 
that  was  none  too  sweet  in  the  open  air.  Whenever  Amy 
stepped  from  the  door  it  seemed  that  some  new  flower  had 
opened  and  some  new  development  of  greenery  and  beauty 
had  been  revealed.  But  the  crowning  glory  in  the  near 
landscape  were  the  fruit  trees.  The  cherry  boughs  grew 
white  every  day,  and  were  closely  followed  by  the  plum 
and  pear  and  the  pink-hued  peach  blossoms.  Even  Squire 
Bartley's  unattractive  place  was  transformed  for  a  time  into 
fairyland;  but  he,  poor  man,  saw  not  the  blossoms,  and  the 
birds  and  boys  stole  his  fruit.  Amy  wondered  at  the  wealth 
of  flowers  that  made  many  of  the  trees  as  white  as  they  had 
been  on  the  snowiest  day  of  winter,  and  Johnnie  revelled 
in  them,  often  climbing  up  into  some  low- branched  tree, 
that  she  might  bury  herself  in  their  beauty,  and  inhale  their 
fragrance  in  long  breaths  of  delight.  The  bees  that  filled 
the  air  about  her  with  their  busy  hum  never  molested  her, 
believing,  no  doubt,  that  she  had  as  good  a  right  as  them 
selves  to  enjoy  the  sweets  in  her  way.  After  all,  it  was 
Mrs.  Clifford,  perhaps,  who  obtained  the  profoundest  en 
joyment  from  the  season.  Seated  by  her  window  or  in  a 
sunny  corner  of  the  piazza,  she  would  watch  the  unfolding 
buds  as  if  she  were  listening  to  some  sweet  old  story  that 
had  grown  dearer  with  every  repetition.  Indeed,  this  was 
true,  for  with  the  blossoms  of  every  year  were  interwoven 
the  memories  of  a  long  life,  and  their  associations  had 
scarcely  ever  been  more  to  her  heart  than  the  new  ones 
now  forming.  She  often  saw,  with  her  children  and  grand 
children,  the  form  of  a  tall  girl  passing  to  and  fro,  and  to 


MAY  AND    GIRLHOOD  227 

her  loving  eyes  Amy  seemed  to  be  the  fairest  and  sweetest 
flower  of  this  gala  period.  She,  and  indeed  they  all,  had 
observed  B art's  strongly  manifested  preference,  but,  with 
innate  refinement  and  good  sense,  there  had  been  a  tacit 
agreement  to  appear  blind.  The  orphan  girl  should  not  be 
annoyed  by  even  the  most  delicate  raillery,  but  the  old  lady 
and  her  husband  could  not  but  feel  the  deepest  satisfaction 
that  Burt  was  making  so  wise  a  choice.  They  liked  Amy 
all  the  better  because  she  was  so  little  disposed  to  senti 
ment,  and  proved  that  she  was  not  to  be  won  easily. 

But  they  all  failed  to  understand  her,  and  gave  her  credit 
for  a  maturity  that  she  did  not  possess.  In  her  happy, 
healthful  country  life  the  girlish  form  that  had  seemed  so 
fragile  when  she  first  came  to  them  was  taking  on  the 
rounded  lines  of  womanhood.  Why  should  she  not  be 
wooed  like  other  girls  at  her  age  ?  Burt  was  further  astray 
than  any  one  else,  and  was  even  inclined  to  complain  men 
tally  that  her  nature  was  cold  and  unresponsive.  And  yet 
her  very  reserve  and  elusiveness  increased  his  passion, 
which  daily  acquired  a  stronger  mastery.  Webb  alone  half 
guessed  the  truth  in  regard  to  her.  As  time  passed,  and  he 
saw  the  increasing  evidences  of  Burt's  feeling,  he  was  care 
ful  that  his  manner  should  be  strictly  fraternal  toward  Amy, 
for  his  impetuous  brother  was  not  always  disposed  to  be 
reasonable  even  in  his  normal  condition,  and  now  he  was 
afflicted  with  a  malady  that  has  often  brought  to  shame  the 
wisdom  of  the  wisest.  The  elder  brother  saw  how  easily 
Burt's  jealousy  could  be  aroused,  and  therefore  denied  him 
self  many  an  hour  of  the  young  girl's  society,  although  it 
caused  him  a  strange  little  heartache  to  do  so.  But  he  was 
very  observant,  for  Amy  was  becoming  a  deeply  interesting 
study.  He  saw  and  appreciated  her  delicate  fence  with  Burt, 
in  which  tact,  kindness,  and  a  little  girlish  brusqueness  were 
almost  equally  blended.  Was  it  the  natural  coyness  of  a 
high-spirited  girl,  who  could  be  won  only  by  long  and 
patient  effort?  or  was  it  an  instinctive  self-defence  from 
a  suit  that  she  could  not  repulse  decisively  without  giving 


228  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

pain  to  those  she  loved?  Why  was  she  so  averse?  Their 
home-life,  even  at  that  busy  season,  gave  him  opportunities 
to  see  her  often,  and  glimmerings  of  the  truth  began  to 
dawn  upon  him.  He  saw  that  she  enjoyed  the  society  of 
Alf  and  Johnnie  almost  as  much  as  that  of  the  other  mem 
bers  of  the  family,  that  her  delight  at  every  new  manifesta 
tion  of  spring  was  as  unforced  as  that  of  the  children,  while 
at  the  same  time  it  was  an  intelligent  and  questioning  in 
terest.  The  beauty  of  the  world  without  impressed  her 
deeply,  as  it  did  Johnnie,  but  to  the  latter  it  was  a  matter 
of  course,  while  to  Amy  it  was  becoming  an  inviting  mys 
tery.  The  little  girl  would  bring  some  new  flower  from  the 
woods  or  garden,  the  first  of  the  season,  in  contented  tri 
umph,  but  to  Amy  the  flower  had  a  stronger  interest.  It 
represented  something  unknown,  a  phase  of  life  which 
it  was  the  impulse  of  her  developing  mind  to  explore. 
Her  botany  was  not  altogether  satisfactory,  for  analysis 
and  classification  do  not  reveal  to  us  a  flower  or  plant  any 
more  than  the  mention  of  a  name  and  family  connection 
makes  known  individual  character.  Her  love  for  natural 
objects  was  too  real  to  be  satisfied  with  a  few  scientific  facts 
about  them;  If  a  plant,  tree,  or  bird,  interested  her  she 
would  look  at  it  with  a  loving,  lingering  glance  until  she 
felt  that  she  was  learning  to  know  it  somewhat  as  she  would 
recognize  a  friend.  The  rapid  changes  which  each  day 
brought  were  like  new  chapters  in  a  story,  or  new  verses 
in  a  poem.  She  watched  with  admiring  wonder  the  tran 
sition  of  buds  into  blossoms;  and  their  changes  of  form 
and  color.  She  shared  in  Alf's  excitement  over  the  arrival 
of  every  new  bird  from  the  South,  and,  having  a  good  ear 
for  music,  found  absorbing  pleasure  in  learning  and  esti 
mating  the  quality  and  characteristics  of  their  various 
songs.  Their  little  oddities  appealed  to  her  sense  of  humor. 
A  pair  of  cat-birds  that  had  begun  their  nest  near  the  house 
received  from  her  more  ridicule  than  admiration.  "They 
seem  to  be  regular  society  birds  and  gossips,"  she  said, 
"and  I  can  never  step  out-of-doors  but  I  feel  that  they  are 


MAY   AND    GIRLHOOD  229 

watching  rne,  and  trying  to  attract  my  attention.  They 
have  a  pretty  song,  bat  they  seem  to  have  learned  it  by 
heart,  and  as  soon  as  they  are  through  they  make  that 
horrid  noise,  as  if  in  their  own  natural  tone  they  were  say- 

i/  J 

ing  something  disagreeable  about  you." 

But  on  the  morning  of  Johnnie's  coronation  she  was 
wakened  by  songs  as  entrancing  as  they  were  unfamiliar. 
Eunning  to  the  window,  she  saw  darting  through  the  trees 
birds  of  such  a  brilliant  flame  color  that  they  seemed  direct 
from  the  tropics,  and  their  notes  were  almost  as  varied  as 
their  colors.  She  speedily  ceased  to  heed  them,  however, 
for  from  the  edge  of  the  nearest  grove  came  a  melody  so 
ethereal  and  sustained  that  it  thrilled  her  with  the  delight 
that  one  experiences  when  some  great  singer  lifts  up  her 
voice  with  a  power  and  sweetness  that  we  feel  to  be  divine. 
At  the  same  moment  she  saw  Alf  running  toward  the  house. 
Seeing  her  at  the  window,  he  shouted,  "Amy,  the  orioles 
and  the  wood- thrushes — the  finest  birds  of  the  year — have 
come.  Hurry  up  and  go  with  me  to  the  grove  yonder." 

Soon  after  Webb,  returning  from  a  distant  field  to  break 
fast,  met  her  near  the  grove.  She  was  almost  as  breathless 
and  excited  as  the  boy,  and  passed  him  with  a  bright  hur 
ried  smile,  while  she  pressed  on  after  her  guide  with  noise 
less  steps  lest  the  shy  songster  should  be  frightened.  He 
looked  after  her  and  listened,  feeling  that  eye  and  ear  could 
ask  for  no  fuller  enchantment.  At  last  she  came  back  to 
him-  with  the  fresh  loveliness  of  the  morning  in  her  face, 
and  exclaimed,  "I  have  seen  an  ideal  bird,  and  he  wears 
his  plumage  like  a  quiet-toned  elegant  costume  that  simply 
suggests  a  perfect  form.  He  was  superbly  indifferent,  and 
scarcely  looked  at  us  until  we  came  too  near,  and  then, 
with  a  reserved  dignity,  flew  away.  He  is  the  true  poet  of 
the  woods,  and  would  sing  just  as  sweetly  if  there  was 
never  a  listener." 

"I  knew  he  would  not  disappoint  you.  Yes,  he  is  a  poet, 
and  your  true  aristocrat,  who  commands  admiration  without 
seeking  it,"  Webb  replied. 


230  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"I  am  sure  he  justifies  all  your  praises,  past  and  present. 
Ob,  isn't  the  morning  lovely — so  fresh,  dewy,  and  fragrant? 
and  the  world  looks  so  young  and  glad!" 

"You  also  look  young  and  glad  this  morning,  Amy." 

"How  can  one  help  it  ?  This  May  beauty  makes  me  feel 
as  young  as  Alf, "  she  replied,  placing  her  hand  on  the 
boy's  shoulder. 

Her  face  was  flushed  with  exercise;  her  step  buoyant; 
her  eyes  were  roaming  over  the  landscape  tinted  with  fruit 
blossoms  and  the  expanding  foliage.  Webb  saw  in  what 
deep  accord  her  spirit  was  with  the  season,  and  he  thought, 
"She  is  young — in  the  very  May  of  her  life.  She  is  scarcely 
more  ready  for  the  words  that  Burt  would  speak  than  little 
Johnnie.  I  wish  he  would  wait  till  the  girl  becomes  a 
woman;"  and  then  for  some  reason  he  sighed  deeply. 
Amy  gave  him  an  arch  look,  and  said: 

"Then  came  from  the  depths,  Webb.  What  secret  sor 
row  can  you  have  on  a  day  like  this  ?' ' 

He  laughed,  but  made  no  reply. 

"Ah,  listen!"  she  cried,  "what  bird  is  that?  Oh,  isn't 
it  beautiful? — almost  equal  to  the  thrush's  song.  He  seems 
to  sing  as  if  his  notes  were  written  for  him  in  couplets." 
She  spoke  at  intervals,  looking  toward  the  grove  they  had 
just  left,  and  when  the  bird  paused  Webb  replied: 

"That  is  the  wood- thrush's  own  cousin,  and  a  distin 
guished  member  of  the  thrush  family,  the  brown- thrasher. 
Well,  Johnnie,"  he  added,  to  the  little  girl  who  had  corne 
to  meet  them,  "you  are  honored  to-day.  Three  of  our  most 
noted  minstrels  have  arrived  just  in  time  to  furnish  music 
for  the  May  Queen." 

But  Johnnie  was  not  surprised,  only  pleased,  as  Webb 
and  others  congratulated  her.  She  would  be  queen  that 
day  with  scarcely  more  self-consciousness  than  one  of  the 
flowers  that  decked  her.  It  was  the  occasion,  the  carnival 
of  spring,  that  occupied  her  thoughts,  and,  since  the  fairest 
blossoms  of  the  season  were  to  be  gathered,  why  should  not 
the  finest  birds  be  present  also  ? 


MAY   AND    GIRLHOOD  281 

Feeling  that  he  had  lost  an  opportunity  in  the  impro 
vised  festival  of  the  maple- sugar  grove,  Burt  resolved  to 
make  the  most  of  this  occasion,  and  he  had  the  wisdom 
to  decide  upon  a  course  that  relieved  Amy  of  not  a  lit 
tle  foreboding.  He  determined  to  show  his  devotion  by 
thoughtful  considerateness,  by  making  the  day  so  charm 
ing  and  satisfactory  as  to  prove  that  he  could  be  a  compan 
ion  after  her  own  heart.  And  he  succeeded  fairly  well  for 
a  time,  only  the  girl's  intuition  divined  his  motive  and 
guessed  his  sentiments.  She  was  ever  in  fear  that  his  re 
straint  would  give  way.  And  yet  she  felt  that  she  ought 
to  reward  him  for  what  she  mentally  termed  his  "sensible 
behavior,"  and  indicate  that  such  should  be  his  course  in 
the  future.  But  this  was  a  delicate  and  difficult  task.  In 
spite  of  all  the  accumulated  beauty  of  the  season  the  day 
was  less  bright,  less  full  of  the  restful,  happy  abandon  of 
the  previous  one  in  March,  when  Webb  had  been  her  un 
demonstrative  attendant.  He,  with  Leonard,  at  that  busy 
period  found  time  to  look  in  upon  the  revellers  in  the  woods 
but  once.  Mr.  Clifford  spent  more  time  with  them,  but  the 
old  gentleman  was  governed  by  his  habit  of  promptness, 
and  the  time  called  for  despatch. 

For  the  children,  however,  it  was  a  revel  that  left  noth 
ing  to  be  desired.  They  had  decided  that  it  should  be  a 
congress  of  flowers,  from  the  earliest  that  had  bloomed  to 
those  now  opening  in  the  sunniest  haunts.  Alf,  with  one 
or  two  other  adventurous  boys,  had  climbed  the  northern 
face  of  old  Storm  King,  and  brought  away  the  last  hepati- 
cas,  fragrant  clusters  of  arbutus,  and  dicentras,  for  "patty- 
kers,  arbuties,  and  Dutcher's  breeches,"  as  Ned  called 
them,  were  favorites  that  could  not  be  spared.  On  a 
sunny  slope  dogwood,  well  advanced,  was  found.  There 
were  banks  white  with  the  rue-anemone,  and  they  were 
marked,  that  some  of  the  little  tuber-like  roots  might  be 
taken  up  in  the  fall  for  forcing  in  the  house.  Myriads  of 
violets  gave  a  purple  tinge  to  parts  of  a  low  meadow  near, 
and  chubby  hands  were  stained  with  the  last  of  the  star-like 


232  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

bloodroot  blossoms,  many  of  which  dropped  white  petals  on 
their  way  to  Johnnie's  throne.  Some  brought  handfuls  of 
columbine  from  rocky  nooks,  and  others  the  purple  trillium, 
that  is  near  of  kin  to  Burroughs's  white  "wake- robin." 
There  were  so  many  Jacks-in-the-pulpit  that  one  might 
fear  a  controversy,  but  the  innumerable  dandelions  and. 
dogtooth  violets  which  carpeted  the  ground  around  the 
throne  diffused  so  mellow  a  light  that  all  the  blossoms  felt 
that  they  looked  well  and  were  amiable.  But  it  would  re 
quire  pages  even  to  mention  all  the  flowers  that  were  brought 
from  gardens,  orchards,  meadows,  groves,  and  rugged  moun 
tain  slopes.  Each  delegation  of  blossoms  and  young  tinted 
foliage  was  received  by  Amy,  as  mistress  of  ceremonies,  and 
arranged  in  harmonious  positions;  while  Johnnie,  quite  for 
getful  of  her  royalty,  was  as  ready  to  help  at  anything  as 
the  humblest  maid  of  honor.  All  the  flowers  were  treated 
tenderly  except  the  poor  purple  violets,  and  these  were 
slaughtered  by  hundreds,  for  the  projecting  spur  under 
the  curved  stem  at  the  base  of  the  flower  enabled  the  boys 
to  hook  them  together,  and  "fight  roosters,"  as  they  termed 
it.  Now  and  then  some  tough-stemmed  violet  would  "hook- 
off"  a  dozen  blue  heads  before  losing  its  own,  and  it  became 
the  temporary  hero.  At  last  the  little  queen  asserted  her 
power  by  saying,  with  a  sudden  flash  in  her  dark  blue  eyes, 
that  she  "wouldn't  have  any  more  fighting  roosters.  She 
didn't  think  it  was  nice." 

By  one  o'clock  the  queen  had  been  crowned,  the  lunch 
had  met  the  capacity  of  even  the  boys,  and  the  children, 
circling  round  the  throne,  were  singing:  "Oats,  peas,  beans, 
and  barley  grows,"  and  kindred  rhymes,  their  voices  rising 
and  falling  with  the  breeze,  the  birds  warbling  an  accom 
paniment.  Webb  and  Leonard,  at  work  in  a  field  not  far 
away,  often  paused  to  listen,  the  former  never  failing  to 
catch  Amy's  clear  notes  as  she  sat  on  a  rock,  the  gentle 
power  behind  the  throne,  that  had  maintained  peace  and 
good-will  among  all  the  little  fractious  subjects. 

The  day  had  grown  almost  sultry,  and  early  in  the  after- 


MAY   AND    GIRLHOOD  233 

noon  there  was  a  distant  jar  of  thunder.  Burt,  who  from  a 
bed  of  dry  leaves  had  been  watching  Amy,  started  up  and 
saw  that  there  was  an  ominous  cloud  in  the  west.  She 
agreed  with  him  that  it  would  be  prudent  to  return  at  once, 
for  she  was  growing  weary  and  depressed.  Burt,  with  all 
his  effort  to  be  quietly  and  unobtrusively  devoted,  had 
never  permitted  her  to  become  unconscious  of  his  presence 
and  feeling.  Therefore  her  experience  had  been  a  divided 
one.  She  could  not  abandon  herself  to  her  hearty  sympa 
thy  with  the  children  and  their  pleasure,  for  he,  by  manner 
at  least,  ever  insisted  that  she  was  a  young  lady,  and  the 
object  of  thoughts  all  too  warm.  Her  nature  was  so  fine 
that  it  was  wounded  and  annoyed  by  an  unwelcome  admira 
tion.  She  did  not  wish  to  think  about  it,  but  was  not  per 
mitted  to  forget  it.  She  had  been  genial,  merry,  yet  guarded 
toward  him  all  day,  and  now  had  begun  to  long  for  the  rest 
and  refuge  of  her  own  room.  He  felt  that  he  had  not  made 
progress,  and  was  also  depressed,  and  he  showed  this  so 
plainly  on  their  way  home  that  she  was  still  more  perplexed 
and  troubled.  "If  he  would  only  be  sensible,  and  treat  me 
as  Webb  does!"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  threw  herself  on  the 
lounge  in  her  room,  exhausted  rather  than  exhilarated  by 
the  experience  of  the  day. 


NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
NATURE'S  WORKSHOP 

DURING  the  hour  she  slept  an  ideal  shower  crossed 
the  sky.  In  the  lower  strata  of  air  there  was 
scarcely  any  wind,  and  the  rain  came  down  ver 
tically,  copiously,  and  without  beating  violence.  The  sun* 
warmed  earth  took  in  every  drop  like  a  great  sponge. 
Beyond  the  first  muttered  warning  to  the  little  May  party 
in  the  grove  there  was  no  thunder.  The  patter  of  the  rain 
was  a  gentle  lullaby  to  Amy,  and  at  last  she  was  wakened 
by  a  ray  of  sunlight  playing  upon  her  face,  yet  she  still 
heard  the  soft  fall  of  rain.  With  the  elasticity  of  youth, 
she  sprang  up,  feeling  that  the  other  cloud  that  had  shad 
owed  her  thoughts  might  soon  pass  also.  As  she  went  sing 
ing  down  the  stairway,  Webb  called  from  the  front  door: 
"Amy,  look  here!  I  was  hoping  you  would  come.  See 
that  rainbow."  The  cloud  still  hung  heavily  over  the  east 
ern  mountains,  while  against  it  was  a  magnificent  arch,  and 
so  distinctly  defined  that  its  feet  appeared  to  rest  on  the  two 
banks  of  the  river.  They  watched  it  in  silence  until  it  faded 
away,  and  the  whole  scene,  crowned  with  flowers  and  open 
ing  foliage  tinted  like  blossoms  of  varied  hues,  was  gemmed 
with  crystals  by  the  now  unclouded  sun,  for  the  soft  rain 
had  clung  to  everything,  from  the  loftiest  tree- top  to  the 
tiniest  spire  of  grass.  Flame-like  orioles  were  flashing 
through  the  perfumed  air.  Robins,  with  their  heads  lifted 
heavenward,  were  singing  as  rapturously  as  if  they  were 
saints  rather  than  rollicking  gormandizers.  Every  bird  that 
had  a  voice  was  lifting  it  up  in  thanksgiving,  but  clear, 


NATURE'S  WORKSHOP  235 

sweet,  and  distinct  above  them  all  came  the  notes  of  the 
wood-thrush,  with  his  Beethoven- like  melody. 

"Have  you  no  words  for  a  scene  like  this,  Webb?"  she 
asked,  at  last. 

"It  is  beyond  all  words,  Amy.  It  is  one  of  nature's 
miracles.  My  wonder  exceeds  even  my  admiration,  for  the 
greater  part  of  this  infinite  variety  of  beauty  is  created  out 
of  so  few  materials  and  by  so  simple  yet  mysterious  a  method 
that  I  can  scarcely  believe  it,  although  I  see  it  and  know  it. 
Men  have  always  agreed  to  worship  the  genius  which  could 
achieve  the  most  with  the  least.  And  yet  the  basis  of  nearly 
all  we  see  is  a  microscopic  cell  endowed  with  essential  pow 
ers.  That  large  apple-tree  yonder,  whose  buds  are  becom 
ing  so  pink,  started  from  one  of  these  minute  cells,  and  all 
the  growth,  beauty,  and  fruitfulness  since  attained  were  the 
result  of  the  power  of  this  one  cell  to  add  to  itself  myriads 
of  like  cells,  which  form  the  whole  structure.  It  is  cell 
adding  cells  that  is  transforming  the  world  around  us."  He 
spoke  earnestly,  and  almost  as  if  he  were  thinking  aloud, 
and  he  looked  like  one  in  the  presence  of  a  mystery  that 
awed  him.  The  hue  of  Amy's  eyes  deepened,  and  her  face 
flushed  in  her  quickened  interest.  Her  own  mind  had  been 
turning  to  kindred  thoughts  and  questionings.  She  had 
passed  beyond  the  period  when  a  mind  like  hers  could  be 
satisfied  with  the  mere  surface  of  things,  and  "Webb's  direct 
approach  to  the  very  foundation  principles  of  what  she  saw 
sent  a  thrill  through  all  her  nerves  as  an  heroic  deed  would 
have  done. 

"Can  you  not  show  me  one  of  those  cells  with  your 
microscope  ?' '  she  asked,  eagerly. 

"Yes,  easily,  and  some  of  its  contents  through  the  cell's 
transparent  walls,  as,  for  instance,  the  minute  grains  of 
chlorophyll,  that  is,  the  green  of  leaves.  All  the  hues  of 
foliage  and  flowers  are  caused  by  what  the  cells  contain, 
and  these,  to  a  certain  extent,  can  be  seen  and  analyzed. 
But  there  is  one  thing  within  the  cell  which  I  cannot  show 
you,  and  which  has  never  been  seen,  and  yet  it  accounts  for 


NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

everything,  and  is  the  architect  of  all — life.  When  we  reach 
the  cell  we  are  at  the  threshold  of  this  mysterious  presence. 
We  know  that  it  is  within.  We  can  see  its  work,  for  its 
workshop  is  under  our  eye,  and  in  this  minute  shop  it  is 
building  all  the  vegetation  of  the  world,  but  the  artisan 
itself  ever  remains  invisible." 

"Ah,  Webb,  do  not  say  artisan,  but  rather  artist.  Does 
not  the  beauty  all  around  us  prove  it  ?  Surely  there  is  but 
one  explanation,  the  one  papa  taught  me:  it  is  the  power  of 
God.  He  is  in  the  little  as  well  as  in  the  great.  Do  you 
not  believe  so,  Webb?" 

"Well,  Amy,"  he  replied,  smilingly,  "the  faith  taught 
you  by  your  father  is,  to  my  mind,  more  rational  than  any 
of  the  explanations  that  I  have  read,  and  J  have  studied 
several.  But  then  I  know  little,  indeed,  compared  with 
multitudes  of  others.  I  am  sure,  however,  that  the  life  of 
God  is  in  some  way  the  source  of  all  the  life  we  see.  But 
perplexing  questions  arise  on  every  side.  Much  of  life  is  so 
repulsive  and  noxious —  But  there !  what  a  fog-bank  I  am 
leading  you  into  this  crystal  May  evening!  Most  young 
girls  would  vote  me  an  insufferable  bore  should  I  talk  to 
them  in  this  style." 

"So  much  the  worse  for  the  young  girls  then.  I  should 
think  they  would  feel  that  no  compliment  could  exceed  that 
of  being  talked  to  as  if  they  had  brains.  But  I  do  not  wish 
to  put  on  learned  airs.  You  know  how  ignorant  I  am  of 
even  the  beginnings  of  this  knowledge.  All  that  I  can  say 
is  that  I  am  not  content  to  be  ignorant.  The  curiosity  of 
Mother  Eve  is  growing  stronger  every  day;  and  is  it  strange 
that  it  should  turn  toward  the  objects,  so  beautiful  and  yet 
BO  mysterious,  that  meet  my  eyes  on  every  side  ?" 

"No,"  said  he,  musingly,  "the  strange  thing  is  that  peo 
ple  have  so  little  curiosity  in  regard  to  their  surroundings. 
Why,  multitudes  of  intelligent  persons  are  almost  as  indif 
ferent  as  the  cattle  that  browse  around  among  the  trees  and 
flowers.  But  I  am  a  sorry  one  to  preach.  I  once  used  to 
investigate  things,  but  did  not  see  them.  I  have  thought 


NATURE'S  WORKSHOP  237 

about  it  very  much  this  spring.  It  is  said  that  great  paint 
ers  and  sculptors  study  anatomy  as  well  as  outward  form. 
Perhaps  here  is  a  good  hint  for  those  who  are  trying  to 
appreciate  nature.  I  am  not  so  shallow  as  to  imagine  that 
I  can  ever  understand  nature  any  more  than  I  can  you  with 
your  direct,  honest  gaze.  So  to  the  thoughtful  mystery  is 
ever  close  at  hand,  but  it  seems  no  little  thing  to  trace  back 
what  one  sees  as  far  as  one  can,  and  you  have  made  me  feel 
that  it  is  a  great  thing  to  see  the  Divine  Artist's  finished 
work." 

They  were  now  joined  by  others,  and  the  perfect  beauty 
of  the  evening  as  it  slowly  faded  into  night  attracted  much 
attention  from  all  the  family.  The  new  moon  hung  in  the 
afterglow  of  the  western  sky,  and  as  the  dusk  deepened 
the  weird  notes  of  the  whip-poor-will  were  heard  for  the 
first  time  from  the  mountain-sides. 

At  the  supper-table  Leonard  beamed  on  every  one. 
"A  rain  like  this,  after  a  week  of  sunshine  has  warmed 
the  earth, "  he  exclaimed,  "is  worth  millions  to  the  coun 
try.  We  can  plant  our  corn  next  week." 

"Yes,"  added  his  father,  "the  old  Indian  sign,  the  un 
folding  of  the  oak  leaves,  indicates  that  it  is  now  safe  to 
plant.  Next  week  will  be  a  busy  one.  After  long  years 
of  observation  I  am  satisfied  that  the  true  secret  of  success 
in  farming  is  the  doing  of  everything  at  just  the  right  time. 
Crops  put  in  too  early  or  too  late  often  partially  fail;  but  if 
the  right  conditions  are  complied  with  from  the  beginning, 
they  start  with  a  vigor  which  is  not  lost  until  maturity. ' ' 

Burt  indulged  in  a  gayety  that  was  phenomenal  even  for 
him,  but  after  supper  he  disappeared.  Amy  retired  to  her 
room  early,  but  she  sat  a  long  time  at  her  window  and 
looked  out  into  the  warm,  fragrant  night.  She  had  for 
gotten  poor  Burt,  who*  was  thinking  of  her,  as  in  his  unrest 
he  rode  mile  after  mile,  holding  his  spirited  horse  down  to 
a  walk.  She  had  almost  forgotten  Webb,  but  she  thought 
deeply  of  his  words,  of  the  life  that  was  working  all  around 
her  so  silently  and  yet  so  powerfully.  Unseen  it  had  created 


238  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

the  beauty  she  had  enjoyed  that  day.  From  the  very  con 
trast  of  ideas  it  made  her  think  of  death,  of  her  father,  who 
once  had  been  so  strong  and  full  of  life.  The  mystery  of 
one  seemed  as  great  as  that  of  the  other,  and  a  loneliness 
such  as  she  had  not  felt  before  for  months  depressed  her. 
"I  wish  I  could  talk  to  Webb  again,"  she  thought.  "He 
says  he  does  not  understand  me.  Little  wonder;  I  do  not 
understand  myself.  It  would  seem  that  when  one  began  to 
think  nothing  that  appeared  simple  before  is  understood; 
but  his  words  are  strong  and  assured.  He  leads  one  to  the 
boundaries  of  the  known,  and  then  says,  quietly,  we  can 
go  no  further;  but  he  makes  you  feel  that  what  is  beyond 
is  all  right.  Oh,  I  wish  Burt  was  like  him!" 


SPRING-TIME  PASSION  239 


CHAPTER  XXX 

S  P  R  I  N  G-T  IME      PASSION 

BUT  little  chance  had  Amy  to  talk  with  Webb  for  the 
next  few  days.  He  had  seen  the  cloud  on  Burt's 
brow,  and  had  observed  that  he  was  suspicious, 
unhappy,  and  irritable;  that  reason  and  good  sense  were 
not  in  the  ascendant;  and  he  understood  his  brother  suffi 
ciently  well  to  believe  that  his  attack  must  run  its  natural 
course,  as  like  fevers  had  done  before.  From  what  he  had 
seen  he  also  thought  that  Amy  could  deal  with  Burt  better 
than  any  one  else,  for  although  high-strung,  he  was  also 
manly  and  generous  when  once  he  got  his  bearings.  In  his 
present  mood  he  would  bitterly  resent  interference  from 
any  one,  but  would  be  bound  to  obey  Amy  and  to  respect 
her  wishes.  Therefore  he  took  especial  pains  to  be  most 
kindly,  but  also  to  appear  busy  and  pre- occupied. 

It  must  not  be  thought  that  Burt  was  offensive  or  even 
openly  obtrusive  in  his  attentions.  He  was  far  too  well- 
bred  for  that.  There  was  nothing  for  which  even  his  mother 
could  reprove  him,  or  of  which  Amy  herself  could  com 
plain.  It  was  the  suit  itself  from  which  she  shrank,  or 
rather  which  she  would  put  off  indefinitely.  But  Burt  was 
not  disposed  to  put  anything  that  he  craved  into  the  dis 
tance.  Spring-tide  impulses  were  in  his  veins,  and  his  heart 
was  so  overcharged  that  it  must  find  expression.  His  oppor 
tunity  came  unexpectedly.  A  long,  exquisite  day  had 
merged  into  a  moonlight  evening.  The  apple-blossoms 
were  in  all  their  white-and-pink  glory,  and  filled  the 
summer-like  air  with  a  fragrance  as  delicate  as  that  of 


240  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

the  arbutus.  The  petals  of  the  cherry  were  floating  down 
like  snow  in  every  passing  breeze,  glimmering  momentarily 
in  the  pale  radiance.  The  night  was  growing  so  beautiful 
that  Amy  was  tempted  to  stroll  out  in  the  grounds,  and 
soon  she  yielded  to  a  fancy  to  see  the  effect  of  moonlight 
through  an  apple-tree  that  towered  like  a  mound  of  snow  at 
some  little  distance  from  the  house.  She  would  not  have 
been  human  had  the  witchery  of  the  May  evening  been 
without  its  influence.  If  Burt  could  have  understood  her, 
this  was  his  opportunity.  If  he  had  come  with  step  and  tone 
that  accorded  with  the  quiet  evening,  and  simply  said, 
"Amy,  you  know — you  have  seen  that  I  love  you;  what 
hope  can  you  give  me?"  she  in  her  present  mood  would 
have  answered  him  as  gently  and  frankly  as  a  child.  She 
might  have  laughingly  pointed  him  to  the  tree,  and  said: 
"See,  it  is  in  blossom  now.  It  will  be  a  long  time  before 
you  pick  the  apples.  You  must  wait.  If  you  will  be 
sensible,  and  treat  me  as  you  would  Johnnie,  were  she 
older,  I  will  ride  and  walk  with  you,  and  be  as  nice  to 
you  as  I  can." 

But  this  Burt  could  not  do  and  still  remain  Burt.  He 
was  like  an  overcharged  cloud,  and  when  he  spoke  at  last 
his  words  seemed  to  the  sensitive  girl  to  have  the  vividness 
and  abruptness  of  the  lightning.  It  was  her  custom  to  make 
a  special  toilet  for  the  evening,  and  when  she  had  come 
down  to  supper  with  a  rose  in  her  hair,  and  dressed  in  some 
light  clinging  fabric,  she  had  proved  so  attractive  to  the 
young  fellow  that  he  felt  that  the  limit  of  his  restraint  was 
reached.  He  would  appeal  to  her  so  earnestly,  so  passion 
ately,  as  to  kindle  her  cold  nature.  In  his  lack  of  apprecia 
tion  of  Amy  he  had  come  to  deem  this  his  true  course,  and 
she  unconsciously  enabled  him  to  carry  out  the  rash  plan. 
He  had  seen  her  stroll  away,  and  had  followed  her  until  she 
should  be  so  far  from  the  house  that  she  must  listen.  As 
she  emerged  from  under  the  apple-tree,  through  which 
as  a  white  cloud  she  had  been  looking  at  the  moon,  he 
appeared  so  suddenly  as  to  startle  her,  and  without  any 


SPRING-TIME   PASSION  241 

gentle  reassurance  he  seized  her  hand,  and  poured  out  his 
feelings  in  a  way  that  at  first  wounded  and  frightened  her. 

"Bart,"  she  cried,  "why  do  you  speak  to  me  so?  Can't 
you  see  that  I  do  not  feel  as  you  do?  I've  given  you  no 
reason  to  say  such  words  to  me." 

"Have  you  no  heart,  Amy  ?  Are  you  as  cold  and  elusive 
as  this  moonlight?  I  have  waited  patiently,  and  now  I  must 
and  will  speak.  Every  man  has  a  right  to  speak  and  a  right 
to  an  answer. ' ' 

"Well  then,"  she  replied,  her  spirit  rising;  "if  you  will 
insist  on  my  being  a  woman  instead  of  a  young  girl  just 
coming  from  the  shadow  of  a  great  sorrow,  I  also  have  my 
rights.  I've  tried  to  show  you  gently  and  with  all  the  tact 
I  possessed  that  I  did  not  want  to  think  about  such  things. 
I'm  just  at  the  beginning  of  my  girlhood  and  I  want  to  be 
a  young  girl  as  long  as  I  can  and  not  an  engaged  young 
woman.  No  matter  who  spoke  the  words  you  have  said, 
they  would  pain  me.  Why  couldn't  you  see  this  from  my 
manner  and  save  both  yourself  and  me  from  this  scene? 
I'll  gladly  be  your  loving  sister,  but  you  must  not  speak  to 
me  in  this  way  again." 

"You  refuse  me  then,"  he  said,  throwing  back  his  head 
haughtily. 

"Kef use  you?  No.  I  simply  tell  you  that  I  won't 
listen  to  such  words  from  any  one.  Why  can't  you  be 
sensible  and  understand  me  ?  1  no  more  wish  to  talk  about 
such  things  than  do  Alf  and  Johnnie. ' ' 

"I  do  understand  you,"  he  exclaimed,  passionately, 
"and  better  perhaps  than  you  understand  yourself.  You 
are  not  a  child.  You  are  a  woman,  but  you  seem  to  lack 
a  woman's  heart,  as  far  as  I  am  concerned;"  and  with  a 
gesture  that  was  very  tragic  and  despairing  he  strode  away. 

She  was  deeply  troubled  and  incensed  also,  and  she  re 
turned  to  the  house  with  drooping  head  and  fast- falling  tears. 

"Why,  Amy,  what  is  the  matter?"  Looking  up,  she 
saw  Webb  coming  down  the  piazza  steps.  Yielding  to  her 
impulse,  she  sprang  forward  and  took  his  arm,  as  she  said: 

Vol.  1       aK 


242  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

"Webb,  you  have  always  acted  toward  me  like  a  brother. 
Tell  me  true:  am  I  cold?  am  I  heartless?  is  it  unnatural  in 
me  that  I  do  not  wish  to  hear  such  words  as  Burt  would 
speak  to-night  ?  All  I  ask  is  that  he  will  let  me  stay  a 
happy  young  girl  till  I  am  ready  for  something  else.  This 
is  no  way  for  a  flower  to  bloom" — she  snatched  the  rose 
from  her  hair,  and  pushed  open  the  red  petals — "and  yet 
Burt  expects  me  to  respond  at  once  to  feelings  that  I  do  not 
even  understand.  If  it's  best  in  the  future — but  surely  I've 
a  right  to  my  freedom  for  a  long  time  yet.  Tell  me,  do  you 
think  I'm  unnatural?" 

"No,  Amy,"  he  answered,  gently.  "It  is  because  you 
are  so  perfectly  natural,  so  true  to  your  girlhood,  that 
you  feel  as  you  do.  In  that  little  parable  of  the  rose  you 
explain  yourself  fully.  You  have  no  cause  for  self-reproach, 
nor  has  Burt  for  complaint.  Will  you  do  what  I  ask  ?" 

"Yes,  Webb.  You  say  you  do  not  understand  me,  and 
yet  always  prove  that  you  do.  If  Burt  would  only  treat  me 
as  you  do,  I  should  be  perfectly  happy. ' ' 

"Well,  Burt's  good-hearted,  but  sometimes  he  mislays 
his  judgment,"  said  Webb,  laughing.  "Come,  cheer  up. 
There  is  no  occasion  for  any  high  tragedy  on  his  part  or 
for  grieving  on  yours.  You  go  and  tell  mother  all  about 
it,  and  just  how  you  feel.  She  is  the  right  one  to  manage 
this  affair,  and  her  influence  over  Burt  is  almost  unbounded. 
Do  this,  and,  take  my  word  for  it,  all  will  soon  be  serene." 

And  so  it  proved.  Amy  felt  that  night  what  it  is  to 
have  a  mother's  boundless  love  and  sympathy,  and  she 
went  to  her  rest  comforted,  soothed,  and  more  assured  as 
to  the  future  than  she  had  been  for  a  long  time.  "How 
quiet  and  sensible  Webb  was  about  it  all!"  was  her  last 
smiling  thought  before  she  slept.  His  thought  as  he 
strolled  away  in  the  moonlight  after  she  left  him  was, 
"It  is  just  as  if  I  half  believed.  She  has  the  mind  of 
a  woman,  but  the  heart  of  a  child.  How  apt  was  her  use 
of  that  rose !  It  told  all. " 

Burt  did  not  stroll;  he  strode  mile  after  mile,  and  the 


SPRING-TIME   PASSION  243 

uncomfortable  feeling  that  he  had  been  very  unwise,  to  say 
the  least,  and  perhaps  very  unjust,  was  growing  upon  him. 
When  at  last  he  returned,  his  mother  called  to  him  through 
the  open  door.  Sooner  or  later,  Mrs.  Clifford  always  ob 
tained  the  confidence  of  her  children,  and  they  ever  found 
that  it  was  sacred.  All  that  can  be  said,  therefore,  was, 
that  he  came  from  her  presence  penitent,  ashamed,  and 
hopeful.  His  mood  may  best  be  explained,  perhaps,  by 
a  note  written  before  he  retired.  "My  dear  sister  Amy," 
it  ran,  "I  wish  to  ask  your  pardon.  I  have  been  unjust 
and  ungenerous.  I  was  so  blinded  and  engrossed  by  my 
own  feelings  that  I  did  not  understand  you.  I  have  proved 
myself  unworthy  of  even  a  sister's  love;  but  1  will  try  to 
make  amends.  Do  not  judge  me  harshly  because  I  was  so 
headlong.  There  is  no  use  in  trying  to  disguise  the  truth. 
What  I  have  said  so  unwisely  and  prematurely  I  cannot 
unsay,  and  I  shall  always  be  true  to  my  words.  But  I  will 
wait  patiently  as  long  as  you  please;  and  if  you  find,  in 
future  years,  that  you  cannot  feel  as  I  do,  I  will  not  com 
plain  or  blame  you,  however  sad  the  truth  may  be  to  me. 
In  the  meantime,  let  there  be  no  constraint  between  us. 
Let  me  become  once  more  your  trusted  brother  Burt." 
This  note  he  pushed  under  her  door,  and  then  slept  too 
soundly  for  the  blighted  youth  he  had  a  few  hours  before 
deemed  himself. 

He  felt  a  little  embarrassed  at  the  prospect  of  meeting 
her  the  next  morning,  but  she  broke  the  ice  at  once  by 
coming  to  him  on  the  piazza  and  extending  her  hand  in 
smiling  frankness  as  she  said:  "You  are  neither  unjust  nor 
ungenerous,  Burt,  or  you  would  not  have  written  me  such 
a  note.  I  take  you  at  your  word.  As  you  said  the  first 
evening  I  came,  we  shall  have  jolly  times  together." 

The  young  fellow  was  immensely  relieved  and  grateful, 
and  he  showed  it.  Soon  afterward  he  went  about  the  affairs 
of  the  day  happier  than  he  had  been  for  a  long  time.  In 
deed,  it  soon  became  evident  that  his  explosion  on  the  pre 
vious  evening  had  cleared  the  air  generally.  Amy  felt  that 


244  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

the  one  threatening  cloud  had  sunk  below  the  horizon.  As 
the  days  passed,  and  Burt  proved  that  he  could  keep  his 
promise,  her  thoughts  grew  as  serene  as  those  of  Johnnie. 
Her  household  duties  were  not  very  many,  and  yet  she  did 
certain  things  regularly.  The  old  people  found  that  she 
rarely  forgot  them,  and  she  had  the  grace  to  see  when 
she  could  help  and  cheer.  Attentions  that  must  be  con 
stantly  asked  for  have  little  charm.  A  day  rarely  passed 
that  did  she  not  give  one  or  more  of  its  best  hours  to  her 
music  and  drawing;  for,  while  she  never  expected  to  excel 
in  these  arts,  she  had  already  learned  that  they  would  en 
able  her  to  give  much  pleasure  to  others.  Her  pencil,  also, 
was  of  great  assistance  in  her  study  of  out-door  life,  for  the 
fixed  attention  which  it  required  to  draw  a  plant,  tree,  or 
bit  of  scenery  revealed  its  characteristics.  She  had  been 
even  more  interested  in  the  unfolding  of  the  leaf-buds  than 
in  the  flowering  of  the  trees,  and  the  gradual  advance  of 
the  foliage,  like  a  tinted  cloud,  up  the  mountain-slopes,  was 
something  she  never  tired  of  watching.  When  she  spoke 
of  this  one  day  to  Webb,  he  replied: 

"I  have  often  wondered  that  more  is  not  said  and  written 
about  our  spring  foliage,  before  it  passes  into  its  general  hue 
of  green.  To  me  it  has  a  more  delicate  beauty  and  charm  than 
anything  seen  in  October.  Different  trees  have  their  distinct 
coloring  now  as  then,  but  it  is  evanescent,  and  the  shades  usu 
ally  are  less  clearly  marked.  This  very  fact,  however,  teaches 
the  eye  to  have  a  nicety  of  distinction  that  is  pleasing." 

The  busy  days  passed  quickly  on.  The  blossoms  faded 
from  the  trees,  and  the  miniature  fruit  was  soon  apparent. 
The  strawberry  rows,  that  had  been  like  lines  of  snow,  were 
now  full  of  little  promising  cones.  The  grass  grew  so  lusty 
and  strong  that  the  dandelions  were  hidden  except  as  the 
breeze  caught  up  the  winged  seeds  that  the  tuneful  yellow- 
birds  often  seized  in  the  air.  The  rye  had  almost  reached 
its  height,  and  Johnnie  said  it  was  "as  good  as  going  to 
the  ocean  to  see  it  wave."  At  last  the  swelling  buds  on 
the  rose-bushes  proclaimed  the  advent  of  June. 


JUNE   AND    HONEY-BEES  245 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

JUNE   AND   HONEY-BEES 

IT  is  said  that  there  is  no  heaven  anywhere  for  those 
incapable  of  recognizing  and  enjoying  it.  Be  this  as  it 
may,  the  month  of  June  is  a  segment  of  heaven  annu 
ally  bestowed  on  those  whose  eyes  and  ears  have  been 
opened  to  beauty  in  sight  and  sound.  Indeed,  what  sense 
in  man  is  not  gratified  to  the  point  of  imaginary  perfection 
during  this  early  fruition  of  the  varied  promise  of  spring? 
Even  to  the  sense  of  touch,  how  exquisite  is  the  "feel"  of 
the  fragrant  rose-petals,  the  soft  young  foliage  that  has 
transformed  the  world,  and  the  queer  downy  fledglings  in 
innumerable  nests !  To  the  eye  informed  by  a  heart  in  love 
with  nature  the  longest  days  of  the  year  are  all  too  short  to 
note  half  that  exists  and  takes  place.  Who  sees  and  dis 
tinguishes  the  varied  blossoming  of  the  many  kinds  of  grain, 
and  grasses  that  are  waving  in  every  field  ?  And  yet  here 
is  a  beauty  as  distinct  and  delicate  as  can  be  found  in  some 
of  Mendelssohn's  "Songs  without  Words" — blossomings  so 
odd,  delicate,  and  evanescent  as  to  suggest  a  child's  dream 
of  a  flower.  Place  them  under  a  strong  glass,  and  who  can 
fail  to  wonder  at  the  miracles  of  form  and  color  that  are  re 
vealed?  From  these  tiny  flowerets  the  scale  runs  upward 
until  it  touches  the  hybrid  rose.  During  this  period,  also, 
many  of  the  forest  trees  emulate  the  wild  flowers  at  their 
feet  until  their  inflorescence  culminates  in  the  white  cord- 
like  fringe  that  foretells  the  spiny  chestnut  burrs. 

So  much  has  been  written  comparing  this  exquisite  sea 
son  when  spring  passes  insensibly  into  summer  with  the  ful- 


246  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

filled  prophecy  of  girlhood,  that  no  attempt  shall  be  made 
to  repeat  the  simile.  Amy's  birthday  should  have  been  in 
May,  but  it  came  early  in  June.  May  was  still  in  her  heart, 
and  might  linger  there  indefinitely;  but  her  mind,  her 
thoughts,  kept  pace  with  nature  as  unconsciously  as  the 
flowers  that  bloomed  in  their  season.  There  were  little 
remembrances  from  all  the  family,  but  Webb's  gift  'prom 
ised  the  most  pleasure.  It  was  a  powerful  opera-glass;  and 
as  he  handed  it  to  her  on  the  piazza  in  the  early  morning  he 
said: 

"Our  troupe  are  all  here  now,  Amy,  and  I  thought  that 
you  would  like  to  see  the  singers,  and  observe  their  cos 
tumes  and  expressions.  Some  birds  have  a  good  deal  of 
expression  and  a  very  charming  manner  while  singing — a 
manner  much  more  to  my  taste  than  that  of  many  a prima 
donna  whom  I  have  heard,  although  my  taste  may  be  un 
cultivated.  Focus  your  glass  on  that  indigo-bird  in  yonder 
tree-top.  Don't  you  see  him  ? — the  one  that  is  favoring  us 
with  such  a  lively  strain,  beginning  with  a  repetition  of 
short,  sprightly  notes.  The  glass  may  enable  you  to  see 
his  markings  accurately." 

"Oh,  what  an  exquisite  glossy  blue!  and  it  grows  so 
deep  and  rich  about  the  head,  throat,  and  breast!  How 
plain  I  can  see  him,  even  to  the  black  velvet  under  his 
eyes!  There  is  brown  on  his  wings,  too.  Why,  I  can  look 
right  into  his  little  throat,  and  almost  imagine  I  see  the 
notes  he  is  flinging  abroad  so  vivaciously.  I  can  even 
make  out  his  claws  closed  on  a  twig,  and  the  dew  on  the 
leaves  around  him  is  like  gems.  Truly,  Webb,  you  were 
inspired  when  you  thought  of  this  gift." 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  quietly,  looking  much  pleased,  how 
ever,  "with  a  very  honest  wish  to  add  to  your  enjoyment  of 
the  summer.  I  must  confess,  too,  that  I  had  one  thought 
at  least  for  myself.  You  have  described  the  indigo-bird 
far  more  accurately  than  I  could  have  done,  although  I 
have  seen  it  every  summer  as  long  as  I  can  remember. 
You  have  taught  me  to  see;  why  should  I  not  help  you  to 


JUNE   AND    HONEY-BEES  247 

see  more  when  I  can  do  it  so  easily  ?  My  thought  was  that 
you  would  lend  me  the  glass  occasionally,  so  that  I  might 
try  to  keep  pace  with  you.  .  I've  been  using  the  microscope 
too  much — prying  into  nature,  as  Burt  would  say,  with  the 
spirit  of  an  anatomist. " 

"1  shall  value  the  glass  a  great  deal  more  if  you  share  it 
with  me,"  she  said,  simply,  with  a  sincere,  direct  gaze  into 
his  eyes;  "and  be  assured,  Webb,"  she  added,  earnestly, 
"you  are  helping  me  more  than  I  can  help  you.  I'm  not 
an  artist,  and  never  can  be,  but  if  I  were  I  should  want 
something  more  than  mere  surface,  however  beautiful  it 
might  be.  Think  of  it,  Webb,  I'm  eighteen  to-day,  and  I 
know  so  little!  You  always  make  me  feel  that  there  is  so 
much  to  learn,  and,  what  is  more,  that  it  is  worth  knowing. 
You  should  have  been  a  teacher,  for  you  would  make  the 
children  feel,  when  learning  their  lessons,  as  Alf  does  when 
after  game.  How  well  nature  bears  close  scrutiny!"  she 
added,  sweeping  the  scene  with  her  glass.  "I  can  go  every 
day  now  on  an  exploring  expedition.  Bat  there  is  the 
breakfast-bell." 

Mr.  Clifford  came  in  a  little  late,  rubbing  his  hands 
felicitously,  as  he  said: 

"I  have  just  come  from  the  apiary,  and  think  we  shall 
have  another  swarm  to-day.  Did  you  ever  hear  the  old 
saying,  Amy, 

'A  swarm  of  bees  in  June 
Is  worth  a  silver  spoon'? 

If  one  comes  out  to-day,  and  we  hive  it  safely,  we  shall  call 
it  yours,  and  you  shall  have  the  honey." 

"How  much  you  are  all  doing  to  sweeten  my  life!"  she 
said,  laughing;  "but  I  never  expected  the  present  of  a  swarm 
of  bees.  I  assure  you  it  is  a  gift  that  you  will  have  to  keep 
for  me,  and  yet  I  should  like  to  see  how  the  bees  swarm, 
and  how  you  hive  them.  Would  it  be  safe?  I've  heard 
that  bees  are  so  wise,  and  know  when  people  are  afraid  of 
them. ' ' 

"You  can  fix  yourself  up  with  a  thick  veil  and  a  pair  of 


248  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

gloves  so  that  there  will  be  no  danger,  and  your  swarm  of 
bees,  when  once  in  hive,  will  take  care  of  themselves,  and 
help  take  care  of  you.  That's  the  beauty  of  bee-culture." 

"Our  bees  are  literally  in  clover  this  year,"  Leonard  re 
marked.  "That  heavy  coating  of  wood-ashes  that  I  gave  to 
a  half-acre  near  the  apiary  proved  most  effective,  and  the 
plot  now  looks  as  if  a  flurry  of  snow  had  passed  over  it, 
the  white  clover  blossoms  are  so  thick.  That  is  something 
I  could  never  understand,  Webb.  Wood-ashes  w>ll  always 
bring  white  clover.  It's  hard  to  believe  that  it  all  comes 
from  seed  dormant  in  the  ground." 

"Well,  it  does,"  was  the  reply. 

"A  great  many  think  that  the  ashes  simply  produce 
conditions  in  the  soil  which  generate  the  clover." 

"Out  of  nothing?  That  would  not  be  simple  at  all,  and 
if  any  one  could  prove  it  he  would  make  a  sensation  in  the 
scientific  world." 

"Now,  Len,  here's  your  chance,"  laughed  Burt.  "Just 
imagine  what  a  halo  of  glory  you  would  get  by  setting  the 
scientific  world  agape  with  wonder!" 

"I  could  make  the  scientific  world  gape  in  a  much  easier 
way,"  Leonard  replied,  dryly.  "Well,  Amy,  if  you  are  as 
fond  of  honey  as  I  am,  you  will  think  a  swarm  of  bees  a  very 
nice  present.  Fancy  buckwheat  cakes  eaten  with  honey  made 
from  buckwheat  blossoms !  There's  a  conjunction  that  gives 
to  winter  an  unflagging  charm.  If  the  old  Hebrews  felt  as 
I  do,  a  land  flowing  with  milk  and  honey  must  have  been 
very  alluring.  Such  a  land  the  valley  of  the  Hudson  cer 
tainly  is.  It's  one  of  the  finest  grass  regions  of  the  world, 
and  grass  means  milk;  and  the  extensive  raspberry  fields 
along  its  banks  mean  honey.  White  clover  is  all  very  well, 
but  I've  noticed  that  when  the  raspberry-bushes  are  in  bloom 
they  are  alive  with  bees.  I  believe  even  the  locust-trees 
would  be  deserted  for  these  insignificant  little  blossoms  that, 
like  many  plain  people,  are  well  worth  close  acquaintance." 

"The  linden- tree,  which  also  blooms  this  month," 
added  Webb,  "furnishes  the  richest  harvest  for  the  honey- 


JUNE    AND   HONEY-BEES  249 

bees,  and  I  don't  believe  they  would  leave  its  blossoms 
for  any  others.  I  wish  there  were  more  lindens  in  this  re 
gion,  for  they  are  as  ornamental  as  they  are  useful.  I've 
read  that  they  are  largely  cultivated  in  Kussia  for  the  sake 
of  the  bees.  The  honey  made  from  the  linden  or  bass-wood 
blossoms  is  said  to  be  crystal  in  its  transparency,  and  un 
surpassed  in  delicacy  of  flavor." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "I  shall  look  after  the  apiary 
to-day.  That's  good  lazy  work  for  an  old  man.  You  can 
help  me  watch  at  a  safe  distance,  Amy,  and  protected,  as  I 
said,  if  they  swarm.  It  wouldn't  be  well  for  you  to  go  too 
near  the  hives  at  first,  you  know,"  he  added,  in  laughing 
gallantry,  "for  they  might  mistake  you  for  a  flower.  They 
are  so  well  acquainted  with  me  that  I  raise  neither  expecta 
tions  nor  fears.  You  needn't  come  out  before  ten  o'clock, 
for  they  don't  swarm  until  toward  midday." 

With  shy  steps,  and  well  protected,  Amy  approached 
the  apiary,  near  which  the  old  gentleman  was  sitting  in 
placid  fearlessness  under  the  shade  of  a  maple,  the  honey 
of  whose  spring  blossoms  was  already  in  the  hive.  For  a 
time  she  kept  at  a  most  respectful  distance,  but,  as  the  bees 
did  not  notice  her,  she  at  last  drew  nearer,  and  removed  her 
veil,  and  with  the  aid  of  her  glass  saw  the  indefatigable 
workers  coming  in  and  going  out  with  such  celerity  that 
they  seemed  to  be  assuring  each  other  that  there  were  tons 
of  honey  now  to  be  had  for  the  gathering.  The  bees  grew 
into  large  insects  under  her  powerful  lenses,  and  their  forms 
and  movements  were  very  distinct.  Suddenly  from  the  en 
trance  of  one  hive  near  Mr.  Clifford,  which  she  happened  to 
be  covering  with  her  glass,  she  saw  pouring  out  a  perfect 
torrent  of  bees.  She  started  back  in  affright,  but  Mr.  Clif 
ford  told  her  to  stand  still,  and  she  noted  that  he  quietly 
kept  his  seat,  while  following  through  his  gold-rimmed 
spectacles  the  swirling,  swaying  stream  that  rushed  into 
the  upper  air.  The  combined  hum  smote  the  ear  with  its 
intensity.  Each  bee  was  describing  circles  with  almost  the 
swiftness  of  light,  and  there  were  such  numbers  that  they 


NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

formed  a  nebulous  living-mass.  Involuntarily  she  crouched 
down  in  the  grass.  In  a  few  moments,  however,  she  saw  the 
swarm  draw  together  and  cluster  like  a  great  black  ball  on 
a  bough  of  a  small  pear-tree.  The  queen  had  alighted,  and 
all  her  subjects  gathered  around  her. 

"Ah,"  chuckled  the  old  gentleman,  rising  quietly,  "they 
couldn't  have  been  more  sensible  if  they  had  been  human — 
not  half  so  sensible  in  that  case,  perhaps.  I  think  you  will 
have  your  swarm  now  without  doubt.  That's  the  beauty  of 
these  Italian  bees  when  they  are  kept  pure:  they  are  so 
quiet  and  sensibfe.  Come  away  now,  until  I  return  pre 
pared  to  hive  them." 

The  young  girl  obeyed  with  alacrity,  and  was  almost 
trembling  with  excitement,  to  which  fear  as  well  as  the 
novelty  of  the  scene  contributed  not  a  little.  Mr.  Clifford 
soon  returned,  well  protected  and  prepared  for  his  work. 
Taking  an  empty  hive,  he  placed  it  on  the  ground  in  a  se 
cluded  spot,  and  laid  before  its  entrances  a  broad,  smooth 
board.  Then  he  mounted  a  step-ladder,  holding  in  his  left 
hand  a  large  tin  pan,  and  gently  brushed  the  bees  into  it  as 
if  they  had  been  inanimate  things.  A  sheet  had  first  been 
spread  beneath  the  pear-tree  to  catch  those  that  did  not  fall 
into  the  pan.  Touched  thus  gently  and  carefully,  the  im 
mense  vitality  of  the  swarm  remained  dormant;  but  a  rough, 
sudden  movement  would  have  transformed  it  instantly  into 
a  vengeful  cloud  of  insects,  each  animated  by  the  one  im 
pulse  to  use  its  stiletto.  Coming  down  from  the  ladder  he 
turned  the  pan  toward  Amy,  and  with  her  glass  she  saw 
that  it  was  nearly  half  full  of  a  crawling,  seething  mass 
that  fairly  made  her  shudder.  But  much  experience  ren 
dered  the  old  gentleman  confident,  and  he  only  smiled  as 
he  carried  the  pan  of  bees  to  the  empty  hive,  and  poured 
them  out  on  the  board  before  it.  The  sheet  was  next  gath 
ered  up  and  placed  near  the  hive  also,  and  then  the  old 
gentleman  backed  slowly  and  quietly  away  until  he  had 
joined  Amy,  to  whom  he  said,  "My  part  of  the  work  is 
now  done,  and  I  think  we  shall  soon  see  them  enter  the 


JUNE   AND    HONEY-BEES  251 

hive."  He  was  right,  for  within  twenty  minutes  every  bee 
had  disappeared  within  the  new  domicile.  "To-night  I  will 
place  the  hive  on  the  platform  with  the  others,  and  to-mor 
row  your  bees  will  be  at  work  for  you,  Amy.  I  don't  won 
der  you  are  so  interested,  for  of  all  insects  I  think  bees  take 
the  palm.  It  is  possible  that  the  swarm  will  not  fancy  their 
new  quarters,  and  will  come  out  again,  but  it  is  not  probable. 
Screened  by  this  bush,  you  can  watch  in  perfect  safety;"  and 
he  left  her  well  content,  with  her  glass  fixed  on  the  apiary. 

Having  satisfied  herself  for  the  time  with  observing  the 
workers  coming  and  going,  she  went  around  to  the  white 
clover-field  to  see  the  process  of  gathering  the  honey.  She 
had  long  since  learned  that  bees  while  at  work  are  harm 
less,  unless  so  cornered  that  they  sting  in  self-defence. 
Sitting  on  a  rock  at  the  edge  of  the  clover- field,  she  lis 
tened  to  the  drowsy  monotone  of  innumerable  wings.  Then 
she  bent  her  glass  on  a  clover  head,  and  it  grew  at  once  into 
a  collection  of  little  white  tubes  or  jars  in  which  from  earth, 
air,  and  dew  nature  distilled  the  nectar  that  the  bees  were 
gathering.  The  intent  workers  stood  on  their  heads  and 
emptied  these  fragrant  honey-jars  with  marvellous  quick 
ness.  They  knew  when  they  were  loaded,  and  in  straight 
lines  as  geometrically  true  as  the  hexagon  cells  in  which 
the  honey  would  be  stored  they  darted  to  their  hives. 
When  the  day  grew  warm  she  returned  to  the  house  and 
read,  with  a  wonder  and  delight  which  no  fairy  tale  had 
ever  produced,  John  Burroughs's  paper,  "  The  ^Pastoral 
Bees,"  which  Webb  had  found  for  her  before  going  to  his 
work.  To  her  childish  credulity  fairy  lore  had  been  more 
interesting  than  wonderful,  but  the  instincts  and  habits  of 
these  children  of  nature  touched  on  mysteries  that  can  never 
be  solved. 

At  dinner  the  experiences  of  the  apiary  were  discussed, 
and  Leonard  asked,  "Do  you  think  the  old-fashioned  cus 
tom  of  beating  tin  pans  and  blowing  horns  influences  a 
swarm  to  alight  ?  The  custom  is  still  maintained  by  some 
people  in  the  vicinity." 


252  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"I  doubt  it,"  said  Webb.  "It  is  no  longer  practiced  by 
scientific  bee-keepers,  and  yet  it  is  founded  on  the  principle 
that  anything  which  disconcerts  the  bees  may  change  their 
plans.  It  is  said  that  water  or  dry  earth  thrown  into  a  whirl 
ing  swarm  will  sometimes  cause  it  to  alight  or  return  to  the 
hive." 

"Your  speaking  of  blowing  horns,"  said  Mr.  Clifford, 
laughing,  "recalls  a  hiving  experience  that  occurred  sev 
enty  years  ago.  I  was  a  boy  then,  but  was  so  punctured 
with  stings  on  a  June  day  like  this  that  a  vivid  impression 
was  made  on  my  memory.  We  were  expecting  swarms 
every  day.  A  neighbor,  a  quaint  old  man  who  lived  very 
near,  had  gained  the  reputation  of  an  expert  at  this  busi 
ness.  I  can  see  him  now,  with  his  high  stove-pipe  hat,  and 
his  gnarled,  wrinkled  visage,  which  he  shrouded  in  a  green 
veil  when  hiving  a  swarm.  He  was  a  good- hearted  old  fel 
low,  but  very  rough  in  his  talk.  He  had  been  to  sea  in 
early  life,  and  profanity  had  become  the  characteristic  of  his 
vernacular.  Well,  word  came  one  morning  that  the  bees 
were  swarming,  and  a  minute  later  I  aroused  the  old  man, 
who  was  smoking  and  dozing  on  his  porch.  I  don't  believe 
you  ever  ran  faster,  Alf,  than  I  did  then.  Hiving  bees  was 
the  old  fellow's  hobby  and  pride,  and  he  dived  into  his  cot 
tage,  smashing  his  clay  pipe  on  the  way,  with  the  haste  of 
an  attacked  soldier  seizing  his  weapons.  In  a  moment  he 
was  out  with  all  his  paraphernalia.  To  me  was  given  a 
fish- horn  of  portentous  size  and  sound.  The  'skips,'  which 
were  the  old-fashioned  straw  hives  that  the  bears  so  often 
emptied  for  our  forefathers,  stood  in  a  large  door-yard,  over 
which  the  swarm  was  circling.  As  we  arrived  on  the  scene 
the  women  were  coming  from  the  house  with  tin  pans,  and 
nearly  all  the  family  were  out-of-doors.  It  so  happened 
that  an  old  white  horse  was  grazing  in  the  yard,  and  at  this 
critical  moment  was  near  the  end  of  the  bench  on  which 
stood  the  hives.  Coming  up  behind  him,  I  thoughtlessly  let 
off  a  terrific  blast  from  my  horn,  at  which  he,  terrified, 
kicked  viciously.  Over  went  a  straw  skip,  and  in  a  mo- 


JUNE   AND    HONEY-BEES  253 

ment  we  had  another  swarm  of  bees  on  hand  that  we  had 
not  bargained  for.  Dropping  my  horn,  I  covered  my  face 
with  my  arm,  and  ran  for  life  to  the  house,  but  I  must  have 
been  stung  twenty  times  before  I  escaped.  The  bees  seemed 
everywhere,  and  as  mad  as  hornets.  Although  half  wild  with 
pain,  I  had  to  laugh  as  I  saw  the  old  man  frantically  trying 
to  adjust  his  veil,  meanwhile  almost  dancing  in  his  anguish. 
In  half  a  minute  he  succumbed,  and  tore  into  a  wood-shed. 
E  verybody  went  to  cover  instantly  except  the  white  horse, 
and  he  had  nowhere  to  go,  but  galloped  around  the  yard  as 
if  possessed.  This  only  made  matters  worse,  for  innocent 
as  he  was,  the  bees  justly  regarded  him  as  the  cause  of  all 
the  trouble.  At  last,  in  his  uncontrollable  agony,  he  floun 
dered  over  a  stone  wall,  and  disappeared.  For  an  hour  or 
two  it  was  almost  as  much  as  one's  life  was  worth  to  venture 
out.  The  old  man,  shrouded  and  mittened,  at  last  crept  off 
homeward  to  nurse  his  wounds  and  his  wrath,  and  he  made 
the  air  fairly  sulphurous  around  him  with  his  oaths.  But 
that  kind  of  sulphuric  treatment  did  not  affect  the  bees,  for 
I  observed  from  a  window  that  at  one  point  nearest  the 
skips  he  began  to  run,  and  he  kept  up  a  lively  pace  until 
within  his  door.  What  became  of  the  swarm  we  expected 
to  hive  I  do  not  know.  Probably  it  went  to  the  woods. 
That  night  we  destroyed  the  irate  swarm  whose  skip  had 
been  kicked  over,  and  peace  was  restored." 

"If  you  had  told  that  story  at  the  breakf ast- table, "  said 
Amy,  as  soon  as  the  laugh  caused  by  the  old  gentleman's 
account  had  subsided,  "you  could  never  have  induced  me  to 
be  present  this  morning,  even  at  such  a  respectful  distance." 

"An  old  man  who  lives  not  far  from  us  has  wonderful 
success  with  bees,"  Leonard  remarked.  "He  has  over  fifty 
hives  in  a  space  not  more  than  twenty  feet  square,  and  I  do 
not  think  there  is  a  tenth  of  an  acre  in  his  whole  lot,  which 
is  in  the  centre  of  a  village.  To  this  bare  little  plot  his  bees 
bring  honey  from  every  side,  so  that  for  his  purpose  he  prac 
tically  owns  this  entire  region.  He  potters  around  them  so 
much  that,  as  far  as  he  is  concerned,  they  are  as  docile  as 


254  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

barn-door  fowls,  and  he  says  he  minds  a  sting  no  more  than 
a  mosquito  bite.  There  are  half  a  dozen  small  trees  and 
bushes  in  his  little  yard,  and  his  bees  are  so  accommodating 
that  they  rarely  swarm  elsewhere  than  on  these  low  trees 
within  a  few  feet  of  the  skips.  He  also  places  mullein  stalks 
on  a  pole,  and  the  swarms  often  cluster  on  them.  He  told 
me  that  on  one  day  last  summer  he  had  ten  swarms  to  look 
after,  and  that  he  hived  them  all ;  and  he  says  that  his  wife 
is  as  good  at  the  work  as  he  is.  On  a  pole  which  forms  the 
corner  of  a  little  poultry- coop  he  keeps  the  record  of  the 
swarms  of  each  season,  and  for  last  summer  there  are  sixty- 
one  notches.  A  year  ago  this  month  four  swarms  went  into 
a  barrel  that  stood  in  a  corner  of  his  yard,  and  he  left  them 
there.  By  fall  they  had  filled  the  barrel  with  honey,  and 
then,  in  his  vernacular,  he  'tuck  it  up';  that  is,  he  killed 
the  bees,  and  removed  all  the  honey. ' ' 

"That  is  the  regular  bee-phrase  in  this  region.  If  a  hive 
is  to  be  emptied  and  the  bees  destroyed,  or  a  bee  tree  to  be 
cut  down,  the  act  is  described  as  'taking  up'  the  hive  or 
tree,"  Burt  explained.  "By  the  way,  Amy,"  he  added, 
"we  must  give  you  a  little  bee-hunting  experience  in  the 
mountains  next  October.  It  would  make  a  jolly  excursion. 
We  can  leave  you  with  a  guard  at  some  high  point,  when 
we  strike  a  bee-line,  and  we  might  not  be  long  in  finding 
the  tree." 

"We'll  put  the  expedition  right  down  on  the  fall  pro 
gramme,"  she  said,  smilingly.  Then  turning  to  Mr.  Clif 
ford,  she  continued:  "You  spoke  in  praise  of  Italian  bees. 
What  kind  are  they  ?  and  how  many  kinds  are  there  ?' ' 

"Really  only  two  distinct  kinds — our  native  brownish- 
black  bees,  and  the  Italians  imported  by  Mr.  S.  B.  Parsons 
and  others  about  fifteen  years  ago.  There  is  a  cross  or 
hybrid  between  these  two  kinds  that  are  said  to  be  so  ill- 
natured  that  it  is  unsafe  to  go  anywhere  near  their  hives." 

"Burt,"  said  Webb,  "you  must  remember  reading  in 
Virgil  of  the  'golden  bees.' 

"Yes,  indistinctly;    but  none  of  them  ever  got  in  my 


JUNE   AND    HONEY-BEES  255 

bonnet  or  made  much  impression.  I  don't  like  bees,  nor 
do  they  like  me.  They  respect  only  the  deliberation  of 
profound  gravity  and  wisdom.  Father  has  these  qualities 
by  the  right  of  years,  and  Webb  by  nature,  and  their  very 
presence  soothes  the  irascible  insects;  but  when  I  go  among 
them  they  fairly  bristle  with  stings.  Give  me  a  horse,  and 
the  more  spirited  the  better. ' ' 

"Oh,  no,  Burt;  can't  give  you  any,"  said  Leonard,  with 
is  humorous  twinkle.  "I'll  sell  you  one,  though,  cheap." 

"Yes,  that  vicious,  uncouth  brute  that  you  bought  be 
cause  so  cheap.  I  told  you  that  you  were  'sold'  at  the  same 
time  with  the  horse." 

"I  admit  it,"  was  the  rueful  reply.  "If  he  ever  balks 
again  as  he  did  to-day,  I  shall  be  tempted  to  shoot  him." 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Amy,  a  little  petulantly,  "I'd  rather 
hear  about  Italian  bees  than  balky  horses.  Has  my  swarm 
of  bees  any  connection  with  those  that  Virgil  wrote  about, 
Webb?" 

"They  may  be  direct  descendants,"  he  replied. 

"Then  call  them  May- bees, "  laughed  Burt. 

"The  kind  of  bees  that  Virgil  wrote  about  were  un 
doubtedly  their  ancestors,"  resumed  Webb,  smiling  at 
Burt's  sally,  "for  bees  seem  to  change  but  little,  if  any, 
in  their  traits  and  habits.  Centuries  of  domestication  do 
not  make  them  domestic,  and  your  swarm,  if  not  hived, 
would  have  gone  to  the  mountains  and  lived  in  a  hollow 
tree.  I  have  a  book  that  will  give  you  the  history  and  char 
acteristics  of  the  Italians,  if  you  would  like  to  read  about 
them." 

"I  certainly  should.  My  mind  is  on  bees  now,  and  I  in 
tend  to  follow  them  up  until  I  get  stung  probably.  Well, 
I've  enjoyed  more  honey  this  morning,  although  I've  not 
tasted  any,  than  in  all  my  life.  You  see  how  useful  I  make 
the  opera-glass,  Webb.  With  it  I  can  even  gather  honey 
that  does  not  cloy." 


25(3  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

BUET   BECOMES   EATIONAL 

BUET  had  expended  more  on  his  present  for  Amy  than 
had  any  of  the  family,  and,  while  it  had  been  ac 
knowledged  most  cordially,  he  was  a  little  disap 
pointed  that  his  choice  had  not  been  so  happy  as  Webb's. 
Therefore  after  dinner  he  said:  "I  feel  almost  envious.  I 
wish  I  could  give  you  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  also  to-day. 
How  would  you  like  to  go  in  a  row-boat  to  Constitution 
Island,  and  make  that  visit  to  Miss  Warner  of  which  we 
spoke  last  winter?  It's  warm,  but  not  sultry,  and  we 
would  keep  in  the  shadow  of  the  mountains  most  of  the 
way  down." 

She  hesitated  a  moment. 

"Don't  be  afraid,  Amy,"  he  said,  in  a  low  tone. 

"I'll  go  with  you,"  she  assented,  cordially,  "and  I  can 
not  think  of  anything  that  would  make  my  birthday  more 
complete." 

"I'll  be  ready  in  an  hour,"  he  said,  flushing  with  pleas 
ure,  and  he  went  up  to  his  room  two  steps  at  a  time. 

Hurt's  mental  processes  during  the  past  few  weeks  had 
been  characteristic,  and  would  have  amused  Amy  had  she 
been  fully  aware  of  them.  As  Webb  surmised,  his  fever 
had  to  run  its  course,  but  after  its  crisis  had  passed  he  rap 
idly  grew  rational.  Moreover,  in  his  mother,  and  indeed 
in  Amy  herself,  he  had  the  best  of  physicians.  At  first  he 
was  very  penitent,  and  not  a  little  chagrined  at  his  course. 
As  days  went  by,  however,  and  it  was  not  referred  to  by 
word  or  sign  on  the  part  of  the  family,  his  nervous  appre- 


BURT   BECOMES   RATIONAL  257 

hension  passed  away.  He  thought  he  detected  a  peculiar 
twinkle  in  Leonard's  eyes  occasionally,  but  it  might  have 
resulted  from  other  causes.  Still  Amy  did  the  most  to  re 
assure  him  both  consciously  and  unconsciously.  As  she 
said,  she  took  him  at  his  word,  and  being  unembarrassed 
by  any  feeling  of  her  own,  found  it  easy  to  act  like  a  sister 
toward  him.  This  naturally  put  him  at  his  ease.  In  her 
floral  expeditions  with  Johnnie,  however,  and  her  bird- 
nestings  with  Alf,  wherein  no  birds  were  robbed,  she  un 
consciously  did  more  to  reconcile  him  to  the  necessity  of 
waiting  than  could  hours  of  argument  from  even  his  mother. 
She  thus  proved  to  him  that  he  had  spoken  much  too  soon 
— that  she  was  not  ready  for  his  ill-chosen,  passionate  words, 
which  had  wounded  instead  of  firing  her  heart  as  he  in 
tended  they  should.  He  now  berated  his  stupidity,  but 
consoled  himself  with  the  thought  that  love  is  always  a 
little  blind.  He  saw  that  she  liked  Webb  exceedingly,  and 
enjoyed  talking  with  him,  but  he  now  was  no  longer  dis 
posed  to  be  jealous.  She  ever  seemed  to  be  asking  ques 
tions  like  an  intelligent  child.  "Why  shouldn't  she  like 
Webb?"  he  thought.  "He  is  one  of  the  best  fellows  in  the 
world,  and  she  has  found  out  that  he's  a  walking  encyclo 
pedia  of  out- door  lore." 

Burt  was  not  one  to  be  depressed  or  to  remain  in  the 
valley  of  humiliation  very  long.  After  a  week  or  two  a 
slight  feeling  of  superiority  began  to  assert  itself.  Amy 
was  not  only  too  young  to  understand  him,  but  also,  per 
haps,  to  appreciate  him.  He  believed  that  he  knew  more 
than  one  pretty  girl  to  whom  he  would  not  have  spoken  in 
vain.  Some  day  the  scales  would  fall  from  Amy's  eyes. 
He  could  well  afford  to  wait  until  they  did,  and  he  threw 
back  his  handsome  head  at  the  thought,  and  an  exultant 
flash  came  into  his  blue  eyes.  Oh,  he  would  be  faithful, 
he  would  be  magnanimous,  and  he  also  admitted  to  himself 
that  he  would  be  very  glad  and  grateful;  but  he  would  be 
very  patient,  perhaps  a  little  too  much  so  to  suit  her.  Since 
he  had  been  told  to  "wait,"  he  would  wait  until  her  awaken- 


258  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

ing  heart  constrained  her  to  give  unequivocal  signs  of  readi 
ness  to  surrender. 

Thus  his  thoughts  ran  on  while  he  was  busy  about  the 
farm,  or  galloping  over  the  country  on  business  or  pleasure. 
After  the  corn-planting  and  the  rush  of  work  in  May  was 
over,  he  had  given  himself  a  week's  outing  among  the  trout 
streams  of  Ulster  County,  and  had  returned  with  his  equa 
nimity  quite  restored.  To  assure  Amy  of  this,  and  that  she 
had  nothing  more  to  fear,  but  everything  to  gain,  was  one 
of  his  motives  in  asking  her  to  take  the  long  sail  that  after 
noon.  He  succeeded  so  well  that  a  smile  of  very  genuine 
satisfaction  hovered  about  her  lips  more  than  once.  She 
enjoyed  the  expedition  exceedingly.  She  was  grateful  for 
the  kind  reception  given  her  by  the  authors  who  had  done 
much  to  sweeten  and  purify  the  world's  thought.  She  was 
charmed  with  the  superb  scenery  as  on  their  return  they 
glided  along  in  the  shadows  of  Cro'  Nest,  whose  sides 
seemed  lined  with  a  choir  of  wood  and  veery  thrushes  and 
other  wild  songsters.  At  last  they  evoked  the  spirit  of 
music  in  her.  She  took  an  oar  with  Burt,  and  they  pulled, 
sang,  and  laughed  together  like  careless,  happy  children. 
Yet  more  than  once  she  shyly  glanced  at  him,  and  queried, 
Could  his  flushed  and  mirthful  face  be  that  of  the  passionate 
lover  and  blighted  youth  of  scarce  a  month  since?  Burt 
said  something  droll,  and  her  laugh  raised  a  musical  echo 
against  the  steep  rocks  near.  His  wit  was  not  its  cause,  but 
her  own  thought:  "My  plea  was  that  I  was  too  young;  he's 
very  young,  too." 

As  they  neared  the  point  of  Storm  King  the  evening 
boat,  the  "Mary  Powell,"  swept  toward  them  with  scarcely 
more  apparent  effort  than  that  of  a  swan.  A  few  moments 
later  their  skiff  was  dancing  over  the  swells,  Amy  waving 
her  handkerchief,  and  the  good-natured  pilot  awakening  a 
hundred  echoes  by  his  steam-whistle  of  responsive  courtesy. 

They  were  at  home  in  time  for  supper,  and  here  another 
delicious  surprise  awaited  Amy.  Johnnie  and  Alf  felt  that 
they  should  do  something  in  honor  of  the  day.  From  a 


BURT   BECOMES    RATIONAL  259 

sunny  hillside  they  had  gleaned  a  gill  of  wild  strawberries, 
and  Webb  had  found  that  the  heat  of  the  day  had  so  far  de 
veloped  half  a  dozen  Jacqueminot  rosebuds  that  they  were 
ready  for  gathering.  These  with  their  fragrance  and  beauty 
were  beside  her  plate  in  dainty  arrangement.  They  seemed 
to  give  the  complete  and  final  touch  to  the  day  already  re 
plete  with  joy  and  kindness,  and  happy,  grateful  tears 
rushed  into  the  young  girl's  eyes.  Dashing  them  brusquely 
away,  she  said:  "I  can't  tell  you  all  what  I  feel,  and  I  won't 
try.  I  want  you  to  know,  however,"  she  added,  smil 
ingly,  while  her  lips  quivered,  "that  I  am  very  much  at 
home." 

Burt  was  in  exuberant  spirits,  for  Amy  had  told  him 
that  she  had  enjoyed  every  moment  of  the  afternoon.  This 
had  been  most  evident,  and  the  young  fellow 'congratulated 
himself.  He  could  keep  his  word,  he  could  be  so  jolly  a 
companion  as  to  leave  nothing  to  be  desired,  and  waiting, 
after  all,  would  not  be  a  martyrdom.  His  mood  unloosed 
his  tongue  and  made  him  eloquent  as  he  described  his  ex 
periences  in  trout-fishing.  His  words  were  so  simple  and 
vivid  that  he  made  his  listeners  hear  the  cool  splash  and  see 
the  foam  of  the  mountain  brooks.  They  saw  the  shimmer 
of  the  speckled  beauties  as  they  leaped  for  the  fly,  and  felt 
the  tingle  of  the  rod  as  the  line  suddenly  tightened,  and 
hear  the  hum  of  the  reel  as  the  fish  darted  away  in  imagined 
safety.  Burt  saw  his  vantage — was  not  Amy  listening  with 
intent  eyes  and  glowing  cheeks? — and  he  kept  the  little 
group  in  suspense  almost  as  long  as  it  had  taken  him  to 
play,  land,  and  kill  a  three-pound  trout,  the  chief  trophy 
of  his  excursion. 

Webb  was  unusually  silent,  and  was  conscious  of  a  de 
pression  for  which  he  could  not  account.  All  was  turning 
out  better  than  he  had  predicted.  The  relations  between 
Burt  and  Amy  were  not  only  "serene,"  but  were  apparently 
becoming  decidedly  blissful.  The  young  girl  was  enthusi 
astic  over  her  enjoyment  of  the  afternoon;  there  were  no 
more  delicately  veiled  defensive  tactics  against  Burt,  and 


260  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

now  her  face  was  full  of  frank  admiration  of  his  skill  as  an 
angler  and  of  interest  in  the  wild  scenes  described.  Burt 
had  spent  more  time  in  society  than  over  his  books  while  at 
college,  and  was  a  fluent,  easy  talker.  Webb  felt  that  he 
suffered  in  contrast,  that  he  was  grave,  heavy,  dull,  and  old 
— no  fit  companion  for  the  girl  whose  laughing  eyes  so  often 
rested  on  his  brother's  face  and  responded  to  his  mirth. 
Perhaps  Burt  would  not  have  long  to  wait;  perhaps  his 
rash,  passionate  words  had  already  given  to  Amy's  girlish 
unconsciousness  the  shock  that  had  destroyed  it,  and  she 
was  learning  that  she  was  a  woman  who  could  return  love 
for  love.  Well,  granting  this,  was  it  not  just  what  they 
were  all  expecting  ?  "But  the  change  is  coming  too  soon, " 
he  complained  to  himself.  "I  wish  she  could  keep  her 
gentle,  lovable,  yet  unapproachable  May-day  grace  a  little 
longer.  Then  she  was  like  the  wind-flower,  which  the  eyes 
can  linger  upon,  but  which  fades  almost  the  moment  it  is 
grasped.  It  made  her  so  different  from  other  girls  of  her 
age.  It  identified  her  with  the  elusive  spirit  of  nature, 
whose  beauty  entrances  one,  but  search  and  wander  where 
we  will,  nothing  can  be  found  that  is  distinctly  and  tangibly 
ours  or  any  one's.  Amy,  belonging  definitely  to  any  one, 
would  lose  half  her  charm." 

Webb  saw  and  heard  all  that  passed,  but  in  a  minor  key 
thoughts  like  these  were  forming  themselves  with  little  voli 
tion  on  his  part,  and  were  symptoms  which  as  yet  he  did 
not  understand.  In  an  interval  of  mirth,  Johnnie  heard 
footsteps  on  the  piazza,  and  darting  out,  caught  a  glimpse 
of  Mr.  Alvord's  retreating  form.  He  had  come  on  some 
errand,  and,  seeing  the  group  at  the  supper-table,  had 
yielded  to  the  impulse  to  depart  unrecognized.  This  the 
little  girl  would  by  no  means  permit.  .  Since  Easter  an  odd 
'friendship  had  sprung  up  between  her  and  the  lonely  man, 
and  she  had  become  almost  his  sole  visitor.  She  now  called 
after  him,  and  in  a  moment  was  at  his  side.  "Why  are  you 
going  away?"  she  said.  "You  must  not  go  till  I  show 
you  my  garden." 


BURT   BECOMES    RATIONAL  261 

Maggie  joined  them,  for  he  deeply  enlisted  her  sym 
pathy,  and  she  wished  to  make  it  clear  by  her  manner  that 
the  tie  between  him  and  the  child  had  her  approval.  ' '  Yes, 
indeed,  Mr.  Alvord,"  she  said,  "you  must  let  Johnnie  show 
you  her  garden,  and  especially  her  pansies. ' ' 

" Heart' s-ease  is  another  name  for  the  flower,  I  believe," 
he  replied,  with  the  glimmer  of  a  smile.  "In  that  case 
Johnnie  should  be  called  Pansy.  I  thank  you,  Mrs.  Clif 
ford,  that  you  are  willing  to  trust  your  child  to  a  stranger. 
We  had  a  lovely  ramble  the  other  day,  and  she  said  that 
you  told  her  she  might  go  with  me." 

"I'm  only  too  glad  that  you  find  Johnnie  an  agreeable 
little  neighbor,"  Maggie  began.  "Indeed,  we  all  feel  so 
neighborly  that  we  hope  you  will  soon  cease  to  think  of 
yourself  as  a  stranger. "  But  here  impatient  Johnnie  dragged 
him  off  to  see  her  garden,  and  his  close  and  appreciative  at 
tention  to  all  she  said  and  showed  to  him  won  the  child's 
heart  anew.  Amy  soon  joined  them,  and  said: 

"Mr.  Alvord,  I  wish  your  congratulations,  also.  I'm 
eighteen  to-day." 

He  turned,  and  looked  at  her  so  wistfully  for  a  moment 
that  her  eyes  fell.  "I  do  congratulate  you,"  he  said,  in  a 
low,  deep  voice.  "If  I  had  my  choice  between  all  the  world 
and  your  age,  I'd  rather  be  eighteen  again.  May  your  brow 
always  be  as  serene  as  it  is  to-night,  Miss  Amy."  His  eyes 
passed  swiftly  from  the  elder  to  the  younger  girl,  the  one 
almost  as  young  at  heart  and  fully  as  innocent  as  the  other, 
and  then  he  spoke  abruptly:  "Good- by,  Johnnie.  I  wish 
to  see  your  father  a  moment  on  some  business;"  and  he 
walked  rapidly  away.  By  the  time  they  reached  the  house 
he  had  gone.  Amy  felt  that  with  the  night  a  darker  shadow 
had  fallen  upon  her  happy  day.  The  deep  sadness  of  a 
wounded  spirit  touched  her  own,  she  scarcely  knew  why. 
It  was  but  the  law  of  her  unwarped,  unselfish  nature.  Even 
as  a  happy  girl  she  could  not  pass  by  uncaring,  on  the  other 
side.  She  felt  that  she  would  like  to  talk  with  Webb,  as 
she  always  did  when  anything  troubled  her;  but  he,  touched 


262  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

with  something  of  Burt's  old  restlessness,  had  rambled  away 
in  the  moonlight,  notwithstanding  the  fatigues  of  the  day, 
Therefore  she  went  to  the  piano  and  sang  for  the  old  people 
some  of  the  quaint  songs  of  which  she  knew  they  were  fond. 
Burt  sat  smoking  and  listening  on  the  piazza  in  immeasur 
able  content. 


WEBB'S   ROSES   AND   ROMANCE  263 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 
WEBB'S  ROSES  AND  ROMANCE 

TO  MRS.  CLIFFORD  the  month  of  June  brought  the 
halcyon  days  of  the  year.  The  warm  sunshine  re 
vived  her,  the  sub-acid  of  the  strawberry  seemed 
to  furnish  the  very  tonic  she  needed,  and  the  beauty  that 
abounded  on  every  side,  and  that  was  daily  brought  to  her 
couch,  conferred  a  happiness  that  few  could  understand. 
Long  years  of  weakness,  in  which  only  her  mind  could  be 
active,  had  developed  in  the  invalid  a  refinement  scarcely 
possible  to  those  who  must  daily  meet  the  practical  ques 
tions  of  life,  and  whose  more  robust  natures  could  enjoy  the 
material  side  of  existence.  It  was  not  strange,  therefore, 
that  country  life  had  matured  her  native  love  of  flowers 
into  almost  a  passion,  which  culminated  in  her  intense 
enjoyment  of  the  rose  in  all  its  varieties.  The  family, 
aware  of  this  marked  preference,  rarely  left  her  without 
these  flowers  at  any  season;  but  in  June  her  eyes  feasted 
on  their  varied  forms  and  colors,  and  she  distinguished  be 
tween  her  favorites  with  all  the  zest  and  accuracy  which 
a  connoisseur  of  wines  ever  brought  to  bear  upon  their  deli 
cate  bouquet.  With  eyes  shut  she  could  name  from  its 
perfume  almost  any  rose  with  which  she  was  familiar. 
Therefore,  in  all  the  flower-beds  and  borders  roses  abounded, 
especially  the  old-fashioned  kinds,  which  are  again  finding 
a  place  in  florists'  catalogues.  Originally  led  by  love  for 
his  mother,  Webb,  years  since,  had  begun  to  give  attention 
to  the  queen  of  flowers.  He  soon  found,  however,  that  the 
words  of  an  English  writer  are  true,  "He  who  would  have 


264  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

beautiful  roses  in  his  garden  must  have  them  first  in  his 
heart,"  and  there,  with  queenly  power,  they  soon  enthroned 
themselves.  In  one  corner  of  the  garden,  which  was  pro 
tected  on  the  north  and  west  by  a  high  stone  wall,  where 
the  soil  was  warm,  loamy,  and  well  drained,  he  made  a  little 
rose  garden.  He  bought  treatises  on  the  flower,  and  when 
he  heard  of  or  saw  a  variety  that  was  particularly  fine  he 
added  it  to  his  collection.  "Webb  is  marked  with  my  love 
of  roses,"  his  mother  often  said,  with  her  low,  pleased  laugh. 
Amy  had  observed  that  even  in  busiest  times  he  often  visited 
his  rose  garden  as  if  it  contained  pets  that  were  never  for 
gotten.  He  once  laughingly  remarked  that  he  ' '  gave  recep 
tions  there  only  by  special  invitation,"  and  so  she  had  never 
seen  the  spot  except  from  a  distance. 

On  the  third  morning  after  her  birthday  Amy  came  down 
very  early.  The  bird  symphony  had  penetrated  her  open 
windows  with  such  a  jubilant  resonance  that  she  had  been 
awakened  almost  with  the  dawn.  The  air  was  so  cool  and 
exhilarating,  and  there  was  such  a  wealth  of  dewy  beauty 
on  every  side,  that  she  yielded  to  the  impulse  to  go  out 
and  enjoy  the  most  delightful  hour  of  the  day.  To  her  sur 
prise,  she  saw  Webb  going  down  the  path  leading  to  the 
garden.  "What's  on  your  conscience,"  she  cried,  "that, 
you  can't  sleep?" 

"What's  on  yours?"  he  retorted. 

"The  shame  of  leaving  so  many  mornings  like  this  unseen 
and  not  enjoyed.  I  mean  to  repent  and  mend  my  ways  from 
this  time  forth;  that  is,  if  I  wake  up.  May  I  go  with  you  ?" 

"What  a  droll  question!"  he  replied,  in  laughing  in 
vitation. 

"Well,  I  did  not  know,"  she  said,  joining  him,  "but  that 
you  were  going  to  visit  that  sanctum  sanctorum  of  yours." 

"I  am.  Your  virtue  of  early  rising  is  about  to  be  re 
warded.  You  know  when  some  great  personage  is  to  be 
specially  honored,  he  is  given  the  freedom  of  a  city  or 
library,  etc.  I  shall  now  give  you  the  freedom  of  my  rose 
garden  for  the  rest  of  the  summer,  and  from  this  time  till 


WEBB'S   ROSES   AND   ROMANCE  265 

frost  you  can  always  find  roses  for  your  belt.  I  meant  to 
do  this  on  your  birthday,  but  the  buds  were  not  sufficiently 
forward  this  backward  season." 

"I'm  not  a  great  personage." 

"No,  thanks,  you're  not.     You  are  only  our  Amy." 

"I'm  content.  Oh,  Webb,  what  miracles  have  you  been 
working  here?"  she  exclaimed,  as  she  passed  through  some 
screening  shrubbery,  and  looked  upon  a  plot  given  up 
wholly  to  roses,  many  of  which  were  open,  more  in  the 
phase  of  exquisite  buds,  while  the  majority  were  still  closely 
wrapped  in  their  green  calyxes. 

"No  miracle  at  all.  I've  only  assisted  nature  a  little. 
At  the  same  time,  let  me  assure  you  that  this  small  place 
is  like  a  picture-gallery,  and  that  there  is  a  chance  here  for 
as  nice  discrimination  as  there  would  be  in  a  cabinet  full  of 
works  of  art.  There  are  few  duplicate  roses  in  this  place, 
and  I  have  been  years  in  selecting  and  winnowing  this  col 
lection.  They  are  all  named  varieties,  labelled  in  my  mind. 
I  love  them  too  well,  and  am  too  familiar  with  them,  to 
hang  disfiguring  bits  of  wood  upon  them.  One  might  as 
well  label  his  friends.  Each  one  has  been  chosen  and  kept 
because  of  some  individual  point  of  excellence,  and  you  can 
gradually  learn  to  recognize  these  characteristics  just  as 
mother  does.  This  plot  here  is  filled  with  hardy  hybrid 
perpetuals,  and  that  with  tender  tea-roses,  requiring  very 
different  treatment.  Here  is  a  moss  that  will  bloom  again 
in  the  autumn.  It  has  a  sounding  name — Soupert-et-notting 
— but  it  is  worthy  of  any  name.  Though  not  so  mossy  as 
some  others,  look  at  its  fine  form  and  beautiful  rose-color. 
Only  one  or  two  are  out  yet,  but  in  a  week  this  bush  will 
be  a  thing  of  beauty  that  one  would  certainly  wish  might 
last  forever.  Try  its  fragrance.  Nothing  surpasses  it  un 
less  it  is  La  France,  over  there." 

She  inhaled  the  exquisite  perfume  in  long  breaths,  and 
then  looked  around  at  the  budding  beauty  on  every  side, 
even  to  the  stone  walls  that  were  covered  with  climbing 
varieties.  At  last  she  turned  to  him  with  eyes  that  were 

Vol.  1       aL 


266  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

dilated  as  much  with  wonder  as  with  pleasure,  and  said: 
41  Well,  this  is  a  surprise.  How  in  the  world  have  you  found 
time  to  bring  all  this  about?  I  never  saw  anything  to  equal 
it  even  in  England.  Of  course  I  saw  rose  gardens  there  on 
a  larger  scale  in  the  parks  and  greenhouses,  but  I  have  ref 
erence  to  the  bushes  and  flowers.  To  me  it  is  just  a  miracle. " 

"You  are  wholly  mistaken.  Why,  Amy,  an  old  gentle 
man  who  lives  but  a  few  miles  away  has  had  seventy  dis 
tinct  kinds  of  hybrid  perpetuals  in  bloom  at  one  time,  and 
many  of  them  the  finest  in  existence;  and  yet  he  has  but 
a  little  mite  of  a  garden,  and  has  been  a  poor,  hard-working 
man  all  his  life.  Speaking  of  England,  when  I  read  of  what 
the  poor  working  people  of  Nottingham  accomplished  in 
their  little  bits  of  glass-houses  and  their  Liliputian  gardens, 
I  know  that  all  this  is  very  ordinary,  and  within  the  reach 
of  almost  any  one  who  loves  the  flower.  After  one  learns 
how  to  grow  roses,  they  do  not  cost  much  more  care  and 
trouble  than  a  crop  of  onions  or  cabbages.  The  soil  and 
location  here  just  suit  the  rose.  You  see  that  the  place  is 
sheltered,  and  yet  there  are  no  trees  near  to  shade  them 
and  drain  the  ground  of  its  richness." 

"Oh,  you  are  sure  to  make  it  all  seem  simple  and  nat 
ural.  It's  a  way  you  have,"  she  said.  "But  to  me  it's  a 
miracle.  I  don't  believe  there  are  many  who  have  your 
feeling  for  this  flower  or  your  skill." 

"You  are  mistaken  again.  The  love  for  roses  is  very 
common,  as  it  should  be,  for  millions  of  plants  are  sold 
annually,  and  the  trade  in  them  is  steadily  increasing. 
Come,  let  me  give  you  a  lesson  in  the  distinguishing  marks 
of  the  different  kinds.  A  rose  will  smell  as  sweet  by  its  own 
name  as  by  another,  and  you  will  find  no  scentless  flowers 
here.  There  are  some  fine  odorless  ones,  like  the  Beauty 
of  Stapleford,  but  I  give  them  no  place." 

The  moments  flew  by  unheeded  until  an  hour  had  passed, 
and  then  Webb,  looking  at  the  sun,  exclaimed:  "I  must 
go.  This  will  answer  for  the  first  lesson.  You  can  bring 
mother  here  now  in  her  garden  chair  whenever  she  wishes 


WEBB'S   ROSES    AND    ROMANCE  267 

to  come,  and  I  will  give  you  other  lessons,  until  you  are 
a  true  connoisseur  in  roses;"  and  he  looked  at  those  in  her 
cheeks  as  if  they  were  more  lovely  than  any  to  which  he 
had  been  devoted  for  years. 

"Well,  "Webb,"  she  said,  laughing,  "I  cannot  think 
of  anything  lacking  in  my  morning's  experience.  I  was 
wakened  by  the  song  of  birds.  You  have  revealed  to  me 
the  mystery  of  your  sanctum,  and  that  alone,  you  know, 
would  be  happiness  to  the  feminine  soul.  You  have  also 
introduced  me  to  dozens  of  your  sweethearts,  for  you  look 
at  each  rose  as  Burt  does  at  the  pretty  girls  he  meets.  You 
have  shown  me  your  budding  rose  garden  in  the  dewy 
morning,  and  that  was  appropriate,  too.  Every  one  of  your 
pets  was  gemmed  and  jewelled  for  the  occasion,  and  un 
rivalled  musicians,  cleverly  concealed  in  the  trees  near,  have 
filled  every  moment  with  melody.  What  more  could  I  ask? 
But  where  are  you  going  with  that  basket?" 

"To  gather  strawberries  for  breakfast.  There  are  enough 
ripe  this  morning.  You  gather  roses  in  the  other  basket. 
Why  should  we  not  have  them  for  breakfast,  also?" 

"Why  not,  indeed,  since  it  would  seem  that  there  are 
to  be  thousands  here  and  elsewhere  in  the  garden  ?  Fresh 
roses  and  strawberries  for  breakfast — that's  country  life  to 
perfection.  Good- by. ' ' 

He  went  away  as  if  in  a  dream,  and  his  heart  almost 
ached  with  a  tension  of  feeling  that  he  could  not  define.  It 
seemed  to  him  the  culmination  of  all  that  he  had  loved  and 
enjoyed.  His  rose  garden  had  been  complete  at  this  season 
the  year  before,  but  now  that  Amy  had  entered  it,  the  roses 
that  she  had  touched,  admired,  and  kissed  with  lips  that 
vied  with  their  petals  grew  tenfold  more  beautiful,  and  the 
spot  seemed  sacred  to  her  alone.  He  could  never  enter  it 
again  without  thinking  of  her  and  seeing  her  lithe  form 
bending  to  favorites  which  hitherto  he  had  only  associated 
with  his  mother.  His  life  seemed  so  full  and  his  happiness 
so  deep  that  he  did  not  want  to  think,  and  would  not  analyze 
according  to  his  habit 


268  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

He  brought  the  strawberries  to  Amy  in  the  breakfast- 
room,  and  stood  near  while  she  and  Johnnie  hulled  them. 
He  saw  the  roses  arranged  by  his  mother's  plate  in  such  nice 
harmony  that  one  color  did  not  destroy  another.  He  replied 
to  her  mirthful  words  and  rallyings,  scarcely  knowing  what 
he  said,  so  deep  was  the  feeling  that  oppressed  him,  so  strong 
was  his  love  for  that  sweet  sister  who  had  come  into  his  life 
and  made  it  ideally  perfect.  She  appreciated  what  he  had 
loved  so  fully,  her  very  presence  had  ever  kindled  his  spirit, 
and  while  eager  to  learn  and  easily  taught,  how  truly  she 
was  teaching  him  a  philosophy  of  life  that  seemed  divine! 
What  more  could  he  desire  ?  The  day  passed  in  a  confused 
maze  of  thought  and  happiness,  so  strange  and  absorbing 
that  he  dared  not  speak  lest  he  should  waken  as  from  a 
dream.  The  girl  had  grown  so  beautiful  to  him  that  he 
scarcely  wished  to  look  at  her,  and  hastened  through  his 
meals  that  he  might  be  alone  with  his  thoughts.  The  sun 
had  sunk,  and  the  moon  was  well  over  the  eastern  moun 
tains,  before  he  visited  the  rose  garden.  Amy  was  there, 
and  she  greeted  him  with  a  pretty  petulance  because  he  had 
not  come  before.  Then,  in  sudden  compunction,  she  asked: 

"Don't  you  feel  well,  Webb?  You  have  been  so  quiet 
since  we  were  here  this  morning !  Perhaps  you  are  sorry 
you  let  me  into  this  charmed  seclusion." 

"No,  Amy,  I  am  not,"  he  said,  with  an  impetuosity  very 
unusual  in  him.  "You  should  know  me. better  than  even  to 
imagine  such  a  thing." 

Before  he  could  say  anything  more,  Burt's  mellow  voice 
rang  out,  "Amy!" 

"Oh,  I  half  forgot;  I  promised  to  take  a  drive  with  Burt 
this  evening.  Forgive  me,  Webb,"  she  added,  gently;  "I 
only  spoke  in  sport.  I  do  know  you  too  well  to  imagine 
I  am  unwelcome  here.  No  one  ever  had  a  kinder  or  more 
patient  brother  than  you  have  been  to  me;"  and  she  clasped 
her  hands  upon  his  arm,  and  looked  up  into  his  face  with 
frank  affection. 

His  arm  trembled  under  her  touch,  and  he  felt  that  he 


WEBB'S    ROSES    AND    ROMANCE  269 

must  be  alone.  In  his  usual  quiet  tones,  however,  he  was 
able  to  say:  "You,  rather,  must  forgive  me  that  I  spoke  so 
hastily.  No;  I'm  not  ill,  but  very  tired.  A  good  night's 
rest  will  bring  me  around.  Go  and  enjoy  your  drive  to  the 
utmost. ' ' 

"Webb,  you  work  too  hard,"  she  said,  earnestly.  "But 
Burt  is  calling — " 

"Yes:  do  not  keep  him  waiting;  and  think  of  me,"  he 
added,  laughing,  "as  too  weary  for  moonlight,  roses,  or  any 
thing  but  prosaic  sleep.  June  is  all  very  well,  but  it  brings 
a  pile  of  work  to  a  fellow  like  me. " 

"Oh,  Webb,  what  a  clodhopper  you're  trying  to  make 
yourself  out  to  be!  Well,  'Sleep,  sleep' — I  can't  think  of 
the  rest  of  the  quotation.  Good- by.  Yes,  I'm  coming!" 
rang  out  her  clear  voice;  and,  with  a  smiling  glance  back 
ward,  she  hastened  away. 

From  the  shrubbery  he  watched  her  pass  up  the  wide 
garden  path,  the  moonlight  giving  an  ethereal  beauty  to  her 
slight  form  with  its  white,  close  drapery.  Then,  deeply 
troubled,  he  threw  himself  on  a  rustic  seat  near  the  wall, 
and  buried  his  face  in  his  hands.  It  was  all  growing  too 
clear  to  him  now,  and  he  found  himself  face  to  face  with 
the  conviction  that  Amy  was  no  longer  his  sister,  but  the 
woman  he  loved.  The  deep-hidden  current  of  feeling  that 
had  been  gathering  volume  for  months  at  last  flashed  out 
into  the  light,  and  there  could  be  no  more  disguise.  The 
explanation  of  her  power  over  him  was  now  given  to  his 
deepest  consciousness.  By  some  law  of  his  nature,  when 
she  spoke  he  had  ever  listened;  whatever  she  said  and  did 
had  been  invested  with  a  nameless  charm.  Day  after  day 
they  had  been  together,  and  their  lives  had  harmonized  like 
two  chords  that  blend  in  one  sweet  sound.  He  had  never 
had  a  sister,  and  his  growing  interest  in  Amy  had  seemed 
the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world;  that  Burt  should  love 
her,  equally  natural — to  fall  in  love  was  almost  a  habit  with 
the  mercurial  young  fellow  when  thrown  into  the  society  of 
a  pretty  girl — and  he  had  felt  that  he  should  be  only  too 


270  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

glad  that  his  brother  had  at  last  fixed  his  thoughts  on  one 
who  would  not  be  a  stranger  to  them.  He  now  remembered 
that,  while  all  this  had  been  satisfactory  to  reason,  his  heart 
for  a  long  time  had  been  uttering  its  low,  half-conscious 
protest.  Now  he  knew  why.  The  events  of  this  long  day 
had  revealed  him  unto  himself,  because  he  was  ripe  for  the 
knowledge. 

His  nature  had  its  hard,  practical  business  side,  but  he 
had  never  been  content  with  questions  of  mere  profit  and 
loss.  He  not  only  had  wanted  the  corn,  but  the  secret  of 
the  corn's  growth  and  existence.  To  search  into  Nature's 
hidden  life,  so  that  he  could  see  through  her  outward  forma 
the  mechanism  back  of  all,  and  trace  endless  diversity  to 
simple  inexorable  laws,  had  been  his  pride  and  the  promised 
solace  of  his  life.  His  love  of  the  rose  had  been  to  him 
what  it  is  to  many  another  hard-working  man  and  woman 
—recreation,  a  habit,  something  for  which  he  had  developed 
the  taste  and  feeling  of  a  connoisseur.  It  had  had  no  appreci 
able  influence  on  the  current  of  his  thoughts.  Amy's  coming, 
however,  had  awakened  the  poetic  side  of  his  temperament, 
and,  while  this  had  taken  nothing  from  the  old,  it  had 
changed  everything.  Before,  his  life  had  been  like  nature 
in  winter,  when  all  things  are  in  hard,  definite  outline.  The 
feeling  which  she  had  inspired  brought  the  transforming 
flowers  and  foliage.  It  was  an  immense  addition  to  that 
which  already  existed,  and  which  formed  the  foundation  for 
it.  For  a  long  time  he  had  exulted  in  this  inflorescence  of 
his  life,  as  it  were,  and  was  more  than  content.  He  did  not 
know  that  the  spirit  gifted  even  unconsciously  with  the 
power  thus  to  develop  his  own  nature  must  soon  become 
to  him  more  than  a  cause  of  an  effect,  more  than  a  sister 
upon  whom  he  could  look  with  as  tranquil  eyes  and  even 
pulse  in  youth  as  in  frosty  age.  But  now  he  knew  it  with 
the  absolute  certainty  that  was  characteristic  of  his  mind 
when  once  it  grasped  a  truth.  The  voice  of  Burt  calling 
"Amy,"  after  the  experiences  of  the  day,  had  been  like  a 
shaft  of  light,  instantly  revealing  everything.  For  her  sake 


WEBB'S   ROSES    AND    ROMANCE  271 

more  than  his  own  he  had  exerted  himself  to  the  utmost  to 
conceal  the  truth  of  that  moment  of  bitter  consciousness. 
He  trembled  as  he  thought  of  his  blind,  impetuous  words 
and  her  look  of  surprise;  he  grew  cold  with  dread  as  he 
remembered  how  easily  he  might  have  betrayed  himself. 

And  now  what  should  he  do  ?  what  could  he  do  but  hide 
the  truth  with  sleepless  vigilance  ?  He  could  not  become 
his  brother's  rival.  In  the  eyes  of  Amy  and  all  the  fam 
ily  Burt  was  her  acknowledged  suitor,  who,  having  been 
brought  to  reason,  was  acting  most  rationally  and  honor 
ably.  Whether  Amy  was  learning  to  love  him  or  not  made 
no  difference.  If  she,  growing  conscious  of  her  woman 
hood,  was  turning  her  thougths  to  Bart  as  the  one  who  had 
first  sought  her,  and  who  was  now  cheerfully  waiting  until 
the  look  of  shy  choice  and  appeal  came  into  her  eyes,  he 
could  not  seek  to  thrust  his  younger  brother  aside.  If  the 
illustration  of  the  rose  which  she  had  forced  into  unnatural 
bloom  was  still  true  of  her  heart,  he  would  be  false  to  her 
and  himself,  as  well  as  to  Burt,  should  he  seek  her  in  the 
guise  of  a  lover.  He  had  felt  that  it  was  almost  sacrilege 
to  disturb  her  May-like  girlhood;  that  this  child  of  nature 
should  be  left  wholly  to  nature's  impulses  and  to  nature's 
hour  for  awakening. 

"If  it  only  could  have  been,  how  rich  and  full  life  would 
be!"  he  thought.  "We  were  in  sympathy  at  almost  every 
point.  When  shall  I  forget  the  hour  we  spent  here  this 
morning!  The  exquisite  purity  and  beauty  of  the  dawn, 
the  roses  with  the  dew  upon  them,  seemed  emblems  of  her 
self.  Hereafter  they  will  ever  speak  to  me  of  her.  That 
perfume  that  comes  on  the  breeze  to  me  now  from  the  wild 
grapevine — the  most  delicate  and  delightful  of  all  the  odors 
of  June — is  instantly  associated  with  her  in  my  mind,  as  all 
things  lovely  in  nature  ever  will  be  hereafter.  How  can  I 
hide  all  this  from  her,  and  seem  merely  her  quiet  elder 
brother?  How  can  I  meet  her  here  to-morrow  morning, 
and  in  the  witchery  of  summer  evenings,  and  still  speak  in 
measured  tones,  and  look  at  her  as  I  would  at  Johnnie? 


272  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

The  thing  is  impossible  until  I  have  gained  a  stronger  self- 
control.  I  must  go  away  for  a  day  or  two,  and  I  will. 
When  I  return  neither  Burt  nor  Amy  shall  have  cause  to 
complain;"  and  he  strode  away. 

The  evening  mail  brought  an  excuse.  A  firm  to  whom 
the  Cliffords  had  been  sending  part  of  their  produce  had  not 
given  full  satisfaction,  and  Webb  announced  his  intention 
of  going  to  the  city  in  the  morning  to  investigate  matters. 
His  father  and  Leonard  approved  of  his  purpose,  and  when 
he  added  that  he  might  stay  in  town  for  two  or  three  days, 
that  he  felt  the  need  of  a  little  change  and  rest  before  hay 
ing  and  harvest  began,  they  all  expressed  their  approval 
still  more  heartily. 

The  night  was  so  beautiful  that  Burt  prolonged  his  drive. 
The  witchery  of  the  romantic  scenery  through  which  he  and 
Amy  passed,  and  the  loveliness  of  her  profile  in  the  pale 
light,  almost  broke  down  his  resolution,  and  once,  in  accents 
much  too  tender,  he  said,  "Oh,  Amy,  I  am  so  happy  when 
with  you!" 

"I'm  happy  with  you  also,"  she  replied,  in  brusque 
tones,  "now  that  you  have  become  so  sensible." 

He  took  the  hint,  and  said,  emphatically:  "Don't  you 
ever  be  apprehensive  or  nervous  when  with  me.  I'll  wait, 
and  be  'sensible,'  as  you  express  it,  till  I'm  gray." 

Her  laugh  rang  out  merrily,  but  she  made  no  other 
reply.  He  was  a  little  nettled,  and  mentally  vowed  a  con 
stancy  that  would  one  day  make  her  regret  that  laugh. 

Webb  had  retired  when  Amy  returned,  and  she  learned 
of  his  plans  from  Maggie.  "It's  just  the  best  thing  he  can 
do,"  she  said,  earnestly.  "Webb's  been  overworking,  and 
he  needs  and  deserves  a  little  rest ' ' 

In  the  morning  he  seemed  so  busy  with  his  preparations 
that  he  had  scarcely  time  to  give  her  more  than  a  genial 
off-hand  greeting. 

"Oh,  Webb,  I  shall  miss  you  so  much!"  she  said,  in 
parting,  and  her  look  was  very  kind  and  wistful.  He  did 
not  trust  himself  to  speak,  but  gave  her  a  humorous  and 


WEBB'S   ROSES   AND    ROMANCE  273 

what  seemed  to  her  a  half-incredulous  smile.  He  puzzled 
her,  and  she  thought  about  him  and  his  manner  of  the  pre 
vious  day  and  evening  not  a  little.  With  her  sensitive  na 
ture,  she  could  not  approach  so  near  the  mystery  that  he 
was  striving  to  conceal  without  being  vaguely  impressed 
that  there  was  something  unusual  about  him.  The  follow 
ing  day,  however,  brought  a  cheerful,  business-like  letter 
to  his  father,  which  was  read  at  the  dinner-table.  He  had 
straightened  out  matters  in  town  and  seemed  to  be  enjoying 
himself.  She  more  than  once  admitted  that  she  did  miss 
him  as  she  would  not  any  other  member  of  the  household. 
But  her  out-door  life  was  very  full.  By  the  aid  of  her  glass 
she  made  the  intimate  acquaintance  of  her  favorite  song 
sters.  Every  day  she  took  Mrs.  Clifford  in  her  garden  chair 
to  the  rosary,  and  proposed  through  her  instruction  to  give 
Webb  a  surprise  when  he  returned.  She  would  prove  to 
him  that  she  could  name  his  pets  from  their  fragrance,  form, 
and  color  as  well  as  he  himself. 


274  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

A  SHAM   BATTLE  AT  WEST   POINT 

BURT  did  his  best  to  keep  things  lively,  and  a  few  days 
after  Webb's  departure  said:  "I've  heard  that  there 
is  to  be  a  sham  battle  at  West  Point  this  afternoon. 
Suppose  we  go  and  see  it." 

The  heavy  guns  from  the  river  batteries  had  been  awak 
ening  deep  echoes  among  the  mountains  every  afternoon 
for  some  time  past,  reminding  the  Cliffords  that  the  June 
examinations  were  taking  place  at  the  Military  Academy, 
and  that  there  was  much  of  interest  occurring  near  them. 
Not  only  did  Amy  assent  to  Burt's  proposition,  but  Leon 
ard  also  resolved  to  go  and  take  Maggie  and  the  children. 
In  the  afternoon  a  steam-yacht  bore  them  and  many  other 
excursionists  to  their  destination,  and  they  were  soon  skirt 
ing  the  grassy  plain  on  which  the  military  evolutions  were 
to  take  place. 

The  scene  was  full  of  novelty  and  interest  for  Amy. 
Thousands  of  people  were  there,  representing  every  walk 
and  condition  of  life.  Plain  farmers  with  their  wives  and 
children,  awkward  country  fellows  with  their  sweethearts, 
dapper  clerks  with  bleached  hands  and  faces,  were  passing 
to  and  fro  among  ladies  in  Parisian  toilets  and  with  the  un 
mistakable  air  of  the  metropolis.  There  were  officers  with 
stars  upon  their  shoulders,  and  others,  quite  as  important  in 
their  bearing,  decorated  with  the  insignia  of  a  second  lieu 
tenant.  Plain-looking  men  were  pointed  out  as  senators, 
and  elegantly  dressed  men  were,  at  a  glance,  seen  to  be  no 
bodies.  Scarcely  a  type  was  wanting  among  those  who 


A   SHAM   BATTLE   AT   WEST  POINT  275 

came  to  see  how  the  nation's  wards  were  drilled  and  pre 
pared  to  defend  the  nation's  honor  and  maintain  peace  at 
the  point  of  the  bayonet.  On  the  piazzas  of  the  officers' 
quarters  were  groups  of  favored  people  whose  relations  or 
distinguished  claims  were  such  as  to  give  them  this  advan 
tage  over  those  who  must  stand  where  they  could  to  see  the 
pageant.  The  cadets  in  their  gray  uniforms  were  conspicu 
ously  absent,  but  the  band  was  upon  the  plain  discoursing 
lively  music.  From  the  inclosure  within  the  barracks  came 
the  long  roll  of  a  drum,  and  all  eyes  turned  thitherward  ex 
pectantly.  Soon  from  under  the  arched  sally-port  two  com 
panies  of  cadets  were  seen  issuing  on  the  double-quick.  They 
crossed  the  plain  with  the  perfect  time  and  precision  of  a 
single  mechanism,  and  passed  down  into  a  depression  of  the 
ground  toward  the  river.  After  an  interval  the  other  two 
companies  came  out  in  like  manner,  and  halted  on  the  plain 
within  a  few  hundred  yards  of  this  depression,  their  bayonets 
scintillating  in  the  unclouded  afternoon  sun.  Both  parties 
were  accompanied  by  mounted  cadet  officers.  The  body  on 
the  plain  threw  out  pickets,  stacked  ar"ms,  and  lounged  at 
their  ease.  Suddenly  a  shot  was  fired  to  the  eastward,  then 
another,  and  in  that  direction  the  pickets  were  seen  running 
in.  With  marvellous  celerity  the  loungers  on  the  plain 
seized  their  muskets,  formed  ranks,  and  faced  toward  the 
point  from  which  the  attack  was  threatened.  A  skirmish 
line  was  thrown  out,  and  this  soon  met  a  similar  line  ad 
vancing  from  the  depression,  sloping  eastward.  Behind 
the  skirmishers  came  a  compact  line  of  battle,  and  it  ad 
vanced  steadily  until  within  fair  musket  range,  when  the 
firing  became  general.  While  the  attacking  party  appeared 
to  fight  resolutely,  it  was  soon  observed  that  they  made  no 
further  effort  to  advance,  but  sought  only  to  occupy  the  at 
tention  of  the  party  to  which  they  were  opposed. 

The  Cliffords  stood  on  the  northwestern  edge  of  the  plain 
near  the  statue  of  General  Sedgwick,  and  from  this  point 
they  could  also  see  what  was  occurring  in  the  depression 
toward  the  river.  "Turn,  Amy,  quick,  and  see  what's 


276  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

coming,"  cried  Burt.  Stealing  up  the  hillside  in  solid  col 
umn  was  another  body  of  cadets.  A  moment  later  they 
passed  near  on  the  double-quick,  went  into  battle  forma 
tion  on  the  run,  and  with  loud  shouts  charged  the  flank  and 
rear  of  the  cadets  on  the  plain,  who  from  the  first  bad  sus 
tained  the  attack.  These  seemed  thrown  into  confusion,  for 
they  were  now  between  two  fires.  After  a  moment  of  ap 
parent  indecision  they  gave  way  rapidly  in  seeming  defeat 
and  rout,  and  the  two  attacking  parties  drew  together  in 
pursuit.  When  they  had  united,  the  pursued,  who  a  mo 
ment  before  had  seemed  a  crowd  of  fugitives,  became  almost 
instantly  a  steady  line  of  battle.  The  order,  "Charge!" 
rang  out,  and,  with  fixed  bayonets,  they  rushed  upon  their 
assailants,  and  steadily  drove  them  back  over  the  plain,  and 
down  into  their  original  position.  It  was  all  carried  out 
with  a  far  degree  of  life-like  reality.  The  "sing"  of  minie 
bullets  was  wanting,  but  abundance  of  noise  and  sulphurous 
smoke  can  be  made  with  blank  cartridges;  and  as  the  party 
attacked  plucked  victory  from  seeming  defeat,  the  people's 
acclamations  were  loud  and  long. 

At  this  point  the  horse  of  one  of  the  cadet  officers  be 
came  unmanageable.  They  had  all  observed  this  rider  dur 
ing  the  battle,  admiring  the  manner  in  which  he  restrained 
the  vicious  brute,  but  at  last  the  animal's  excitement  or  fear 
became  so  great  that  he  rushed  toward  the  crowded  sidewalk 
and  road  in  front  of  the  officers'  quarters.  The  people  gave 
way  to  right  and  left.  Burt  had  scarcely  time  to  do  more 
than  encircle  Amy  with  his  arm  and  sweep  her  out  of  the 
path  of  the  terrified  beast.  The  cadet  made  heroic  efforts, 
until  it  was  evident  that  the  horse  would  dash  into  the  iron 
fence  beyond  the  road,  and  then  the  young  fellow  was  oif 
and  on  his  feet  with  the  agility  of  a  cat,  but  he  still  main 
tained  his  hold  upon  the  bridle.  A  second  later  there  was 
a  heavy  thud  heard  above  the  screams  of  women  and  chil 
dren  and  the  shouts  of  those  vociferating  advice.  The 
horse  fell  heavily  in  his  recoil  from  the  fence,  and  in  a 
moment  or  two  was  led  limping  and  crestfallen  away,  while 


A   SHAM  BATTLE   AT   WEST  POINT  277 

the  cadet  quietly  returned  to  his  comrades  on  the  plain. 
Johnnie  and  little  Ned  were  crying  from  fright,  and  both 
Amy  and  Maggie  were  pale  and  nervous;  therefore  Leon 
ard  led  the  way  out  of  the  crowd.  From  a  more  distant 
point  they  saw  the  party  beneath  the  hill  rally  for  a  final 
and  united  charge,  which  this  time  proved  successful,  and 
the  companies  on  the  plain,  after  a  stubborn  resistance,  were 
driven  back  to  the  barracks,  and  through  the  sally-port,  fol 
lowed  by  their  opponents.  The  clouds  of  smoke  rolled 
away,  the  band  struck  up  a  lively  air,  and  the  lines  of 
people  broke  up  into  groups  and  streamed  in  all  direc 
tions.  Leonard  decided  that  it  would  be  best  for  them  to 
return  by  the  evening  boat,  and  not  wait  for  parade,  since 
the  little  yacht  would  certainly  be  overcrowded  at  a  later 
hour. 


278  MATUKE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTEK  XXXV 

CHASED   BY   A  THUNDER-SHOWER 

THE  first  one  on  the  "Powell"  to  greet  them  was  Webb, 
returning  from  the  city.  Amy  thought  he  Jooked  so 
thin  as  to  appear  almost  haggard,  but  he  seemed  in 
the  best  of  spirits,  and  professed  to  feel  well  and  rested.  She 
half  imagined  that  she  missed  a  certain  gentleness  in  his 
words  and  manner  toward  her,  but  when  he  heard  how 
nearly  she  had  been  trampled  upon,  she  was  abundantly 
satisfied  by  his  look  of  deep  affection  and  solicitude  as  he 
said:  "Heaven  bless  your  strong,  ready  arm,  Burt!"  "Oh, 
that  it  had  been  mine !"  was  his  inward  thought.  He  masked 
his  feelings  so  well,  however,  that  all  perplexity  passed  from 
her  mind.  She  was  eager  to  visit  the  rose  garden  with  him,  A 
and  when  there  he  praised  her  quickly  acquired  skill  so  sin-  (  / 
cerely  that  her  face  flushed  with  pleasure.  No  one  seemed 
to  enjoy  the  late  but  ample  supper  more  than  he,  or  to  make 
greater  havoc  in  the  well-heaped  dish  of  strawberries.  "I 
tasted  none  like  these  in  New  Y"ork,"  he  said.  "After  all, 
give  me  the  old-fashioned  kind.  We've  tried  many  varie 
ties,  but  the  Triomphe  de  Gand  proves  the  most  satisfac 
tory,  if  one  will  give  it  the  attention  it  deserves.  The  fruit 
ripens  early  and  lasts  till  late.  It  is  firm  and  good  even  in 
cool,  wet  weather,  and  positively  delicious  after  a  sunny  day 
like  this." 

"I  agree  with  you,  Webb,"  said  his  mother,  smiling. 
"It's  the  best  of  all  the  kinds  we've  had,  except,  perhaps,  the 
President  Wilder,  but  that  doesn't  bear  well  in  our  garden." 

"Well,  mother,"  he  replied,  with  a  laugh,  "the  best  is 


CHASED   BY  A   THUNDER-SHOWER  279 

not  too  good  for  you.  I  have  a  row  of  Wilders,  however, 
for  your  especial  benefit,  but  they're  late,  you  know." 

The  next  morning  he  went  into  the  haying  with  as  much 
apparent  zest  as  Leonard.  They  began  with  red-top  clover. 
The  growth  had  been  so  heavy  that  in  many  places  it  had 
"lodged,"  or  fallen,  and  it  had  to  be  cut  with  scythes. 
Later  on,  the  mowing-machine  would  be  used  in  the  tim 
othy  fields  and  meadows.  Amy,  from  her  open  window, 
watched  him  as  he  steadily  bent  to  the  work,  and  she  in 
haled  with  pleasure  the  odors  from  the  bleeding  clover,  for 
it  was  the  custom  of  the  Cliffords  to  cut  their  grasses  early, 
while  fall  of  the  native  juices.  Rakes  followed  the  scythes 
speedily,  and  the  clover  was  piled  up  into  compact  little 
heaps,  or  "cocks,"  to  sweat  out  its  moisture  rather  than 
yield  it  to  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun. 

"Oh,  dear!"  said  Amy,  at  the  dinner- table,  "my  bees 
won't  fare  so  well,  now  that  you  are  cutting  down  so  much 
of  their  pasture. ' ' 

"Bed  clover  affords  no  pasturage  for  honey-bees,"  said 
Webb,  laughing.  "How  easily  he  seems  to  laugh  of  late!" 
Amy  thought.  "They  can't  reach  the  honey  in  the  long, 
tube-like  blossoms.  Here  the  bumble-bees  have  everything 
their  way,  and  get  it  all  except  what  is  sipped  by  the  hum 
ming-birds,  with  their  long  beaks,  as  they  feed  on  the  mi 
nute  insects  within  the  flowers.  I've  heard  the  question,  Of 
what  use  are  bumble-bees  ? — I  like  to  s&v'bumble  best,  as  I 

«/ 

did  when  a  boy.  Well,  I've  been  told  that  red  clover  can 
not  be  raised  without  this  insect,  which,  passing  from  flower 
to  flower,  carries  the  fertilizing  pollen.  In  Australia  the 
rats  and  the  field  mice  were  so  abundant  that  they  de 
stroyed  these  bees,  which,  as  you  know,  make  their  nests 
on  the  ground,  and  so  cats  had  to  be  imported  in  order  to 
give  the  bumble-bees  and  red  clover  a  chance  for  life. 
There  is  always  trouble  in  nature  unless  an  equilibrium  is 
kept  up.  Much  as  I  dislike  cats,  I  must  admit  that  they 
have  contributed  largely  toward  the  prosperity  of  an  incipi 
ent  empire. ' ' 


280  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

"When  I  was  a  boy,"  remarked  Leonard,  "I  was  cruel 
enough  to  catch  bumble-bees  and  pull  them  apart  for  the 
sake  of  the  sac  of  honey  they  carry. ' ' 

Alf  hung  his  head,  and  looked  very  conscious.  "Own 
up,  Alf,"  laughed  Webb. 

"Well,  I  ain't  any  worse  than  papa,"  said  the  boy. 

All  through  the  afternoon  the  musical  sound  of  whetting 
the  scythes  with  the  rifle  rang  out  from  time  to  time,  and  in 
the  evening  Leonard  said,  "If  this  warm,  dry  weather  holds 
till  to-morrow  night,  we  shall  get  in  our  clover  in  perfect 
condition." 

On  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day  the  two-horse 
wagon,  surmounted  by  the  hay-rack,  went  into  the  barn 
again  and  again  with  its  fragrant  burden;  but  at  last  Amy 
was  aroused  from  her  book  by  a  heavy  vibration  of  thun 
der.  Going  to  a  window  facing  the  west,  she  saw  a  threat 
ening  cloud  that  every  moment  loomed  vaster  and  darker. 
The  great  vapory  heads,  tipped  with  light,  towered  rapidly, 
until  at  last  the  sun  passed  into  a  sudden  eclipse  that  was 
so  deep  as  to  create  almost  a  twilight.  As  the  cloud  ap 
proached,  there  was  a  low,  distant,  continuous  sound,  quite 
distinct  from  nearer  and  heavier  peals,  which  after  brief 
and  briefer  intervals  followed  the  lightning  gleams  athwart 
the  gloom.  She' saw  that  the  hay-makers  were  gathering  the 
last  of  the  clover,  and  raking,  pitching,  and  loading  with 
eager  haste,  their  forms  looking  almost  shadowy  in  the  dis 
tance  and  the  dim  light.  Their  task  was  nearly  completed, 
and  the  horses'  heads  were  turned  barnward,  when  a  flash 
of  blinding  intensity  came,  with  an  instantaneous  crash, 
that  roared  away  to  the  eastward  with  deep  reverberations. 
Amy  shuddered,  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 
When  she  looked  again,  the  clover-field  and  all  that  it 
contained  seemed  annihilated.  The  air  was  thick  with 
dust,  straws,  twigs,  and  foliage  torn  away,  and  the  gust 
passed  over  the  house  with  a  howl  of  fury  scarcely  less  ap 
palling  than  the  thunder-peal  had  been.  Trembling,  and 
almost  faint  with  fear,  she  strained  her  eyes  toward  the 


CHASED    BY  A   THUNDER-SHOWER  281 

point  where  she  had  last  seen  Webb  loading  the  hay-rack. 
The  murky  obscurity  lightened  up  a  little,  and  in  a  moment 
or  two  she  saw  him  whipping  the  horses  into  a  gallop.  The 
doors  of  the  barn  stood  open,  and  the  rest  of  the  workers 
had  taken  a  cross-cut  toward  it,  while  Mr.  Clifford  was  on 
the  piazza,  shouting  for  them  to  hurry.  Great  drops 
splashed  against  the  window-panes,  and  the  heavy,  mo 
notonous  sound  of  the  coming  torrent  seemed  to  approach 
like  the  rush  of  a  locomotive.  Webb,  with  the  last  load, 
is  wheeling  to  the  entrance  of  the  barn.  A  second  later, 
and  the  horses'  feet  resound  on  the  planks  of  the  floor. 
Then  all  is  hidden,  and  the  rain  pours  against  the  window 
like  a  cataract.  In  swift  alternation  of  feeling  she  clapped 
her  hands  in  applause,  and  ran  down  to  meet  Mr.  Clifford, 
who,  with  much  effort,  was  shutting  the  door  against  the 
gale.  When  he  turned  he  rubbed  his  hands  and  laughed 
as  he  said,  "Well,  I  never  saw  Webb  chased  so  sharply  by 
a  thunder-shower  before;  but  he  won  the  race,  and  the 
clover's  safe." 

The  storm  soon  thundered  away  to  parts  unknown,  the 
setting  sun  spanning  its  retreating  murkiness  with  a  mag 
nificent  bow;  long  before  the  rain  ceased  the  birds  were 
exulting  in  jubilant  chorus,  and  the  air  grew  still  and  de- 
liciously  cool  and  fragrant.  When  at  last  the  full  moon 
rose  over  the  Beacon  Mountains  there  was  not  a  cloud 
above  the  horizon,  and  Nature,  in  all  her  shower-gemmed 
and  June-clad  loveliness,  was  like  a  radiant  beauty  lost  in 
revery. 


282  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

THE    KESCUE   OF   A   HOME 

WHO  remembers  when  his  childhood  ceased?  Who 
can  name  the  hour  when  buoyant,  thoughtless, 
half-reckless  youth  felt  the  first  sobering  touch 
of  manhood,  or  recall  the  day  when  he  passed  over  the 
summit  of  his  life,  and  faced  the  long  decline  of  age  ?  As 
imperceptibly  do  the  seasons  blend  when  one  passes  and 
merges  into  another.  There  were  traces  of  summer  in  May, 
lingering  evidences  of  spring  far  into  June,  and  even  in 
sultry  July  came  days  in  which  the  wind  in  the  groves  and 
the  chirp  of  insects  at  night  foretold  the  autumn. 

The  morning  that  followed  the  thunder-shower  was  one 
of  warm,  serene  beauty.  The  artillery  of  heaven  had  done 
no  apparent  injury.  A  rock  may  have  been  riven  in  the 
mountains,  a  lonely  tree  splintered,  but  homes  were  safe, 
the  warm  earth  was  watered,  and  the  air  purified.  With 
the  dawn  Amy's  bees  were  out  at  work,  gleaning  the  last 
sweets  from  the  white  clover,  that  was  on  the  wane,  from 
the  flowers  of  the  garden,  field,  and  forest.  The  rose  gar 
den  yielded  no  honey:  the  queen  of  flowers  is  visited  by  no 
bees.  The  sweetbrier,  or  eglantine,  belonging  to  this  family 
is  an  exception,  however,  and  if  the  sweets  of  these  wild 
roses  could  be  harvested,  an  Ariel  would  not  ask  for 
daintier  sustenance. 

White  and  delicate  pink  hues  characterize  the  flowers  of 
early  spring.  In  June  the  wild  blossoms  emulate  the  skies, 
and  blue  predominates.  In  July  and  August  many  of  the 
more  sensitive  in  Flora's  train  blush  crimson  under  the 
direct  gaze  of  the  sun.  Yellow  hues  hold  their  own  through- 


THE   RESCUE   OF  A    HOME  283 

out  the  year,  from  the  dandelions  that  first  star  the  fields  to 
the  golden-rod  that  flames  until  quenched  by  frost  and  late 
autumn  storms. 

During  the  latter  part  of  June  the  annual  roses  of  the 
garden  were  in  all  stages  and  conditions.  Beautiful  buds 
could  be  gleaned  among  the  developing  seed  receptacles 
and  matured  flowers  that  were  casting  their  petals  on  every 
breeze.  The  thrips  and  the  disgusting  rose-bug  were  also 
making  havoc  here  and  there.  But  an  untiring  vigilance 
watched  over  the  rose  garden.  Morning,  noon,  and  even 
ing  Webb  cut  away  the  fading  roses,  and  Amy  soon  learned 
to  aid  him,  for  she  saw  that  his  mind  was  bent  on  maintain 
ing  the  roses  in  this  little  nook  at  the  highest  attainable 
point  of  perfection.  It  is  astonishing  how  greatly  nature 
can  be  assisted  and  directed  by  a  little  skilled  labor  at  the 
right  time.  Left  to  themselves,  the  superb  varieties  in 
the  rose  garden  would  have  spent  the  remainder  of  the 
summer  and  autumn  chiefly  in  the  development  of  seed- 
vessels,  and  in  resting  after  their  first  bloom.  But  the 
pruning-knife  had  been  too  busy  among  them,  and  the 
thoroughly  fertilized  soil  sent  up  supplies  that  must  be 
disposed  of.  As  soon  as  the  bushes  had  given  what  may 
be  termed  their  first  annual  bloom  they  were  cut  back  half 
way  to  the  ground,  and  dormant  buds  were  thus  forced  into 
immediate  growth.  Meanwhile  the  new  shoots  that  in  spring 
had  started  from  the  roots  were  already  loaded  with  buds, 
and  so,  by  a  little  management  and  attention,  the  bloom 
would  be  maintained  until  frosty  nights  should  bring  the 
sleep  of  winter.  No  rose-bug  escaped  Webb's  vigilant 
search,  and  the  foliage  was  so  often  sprayed  by  a  garden 
syringe  with  an  infusion  of  white  hellebore  that  thrips  and 
slugs  met  their  deserved  fate  before  they  had  done  any  in 
jury.  Thus  for  Mrs.  Clifford  and  Amy  was  maintained 
a  supply  of  these  exquisite  flowers,  which  in  a  measure 
became  a  part  of  their  daily  food. 

Nature  was  culminating.  On  every  side  was  the  fulfil 
ment  of  its  innumerable  promises.  The  bluebird,  with  the 


284  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

softness  of  June  in  his  notes,  had  told  his  love  amid  the 
snows  and  gales  of  March,  and  now,  with  unabated  con 
stancy,  and  with  all  a  father's  solicitude,  he  was  caring  for 
his  third  nestful  of  fledglings.  Young  orioles  were  essaying 
flight  from  their  wind-rocked  cradles  on  the  outer  boughs 
of  the  elms.  Phoebe-birds,  with  nests  beneath  bridges  over 
running  streams,  had,  nevertheless,  the  skill  to  land  their 
young  on  the  banks.  Nature  was  like  a  vast  nursery,  and 
from  gardens,  lawns,  fields,  and  forest  the  cries  and  calls  of 
feathered  infancy  were  heard  all  day,  and  sometimes  in  the 
darkness,  as  owls,  hawks,  and  other  night  prowlers  added 
to  the  fearful  sum  of  the  world's  tragedies.  The  cat-birds, 
that  had  built  in  some  shrubbery  near  the  house,  had  by  the 
last  of  June  done  much  to  gain  Amy's  good-will  and  re 
spect.  As  their  domestic  character  and  operations  could 
easily  be  observed,  she  had  visited  them  almost  daily  from 
the  time  they  had  laid  the  dry-twig  and  leafy  foundation  of 
their  nest  until  its  lining  of  fine  dry  grasses  was  completed. 
She  bad  found  that,  although  inclined  to  mock  and  gibe  at 
outsiders,  they  were  loyal  and  affectionate  to  each  other. 
In  their  home-building,  in  the  incubation  of  the  deep 
bluish-green  eggs,  and  in  the  care  of  the  young,  now 
almost  ready  to  fly,  they  had  been  mutually  helpful  and 
considerate,  fearless  and  even  fierce  in  attacking  all  who 
approached  too  near  their  domicile.  To  Amy  and  her  daily 
visits  they  had  become  quite  reconciled,  even  as  she  had 
grown  interested  in  them,  in  spite  of  a  certain  lack  of  the 
high  breeding  which  characterized  the  thrushes  and  other 
favorites. 

"My  better  acquaintance  with  them,"  she  said  one  even 
ing  to  Dr.  Marvin,  who,  with  his  wife,  had  stopped  at  the 
Cliffords'  in  passing,  "has  taught  me  a  lesson.  1  think  I'm 
too  much  inclined  to  sweeping  censure  on  the  exhibition 
of  a  few  disagreeable  traits.  I've  learned  that  the  gossips  in 
yonder  bushes  have  some  excellent  qualities,  and  I  sup 
pose  you  find  that  this  is  true  of  the  gossips  among  your 
patients." 


THE   RESCUE   OF  A    HOME  285 

"Yes,"  replied  the  doctor,  "but  the  human  gossips  draw 
the  more  largely  on  one's  charity;  and  if  you  knew  how 
many  pestiferous  slugs  and  insects  your  neighbors  in  the 
shrubbery  have  already  destroyed,  the  human  genus  of 
gossip  would  suffer  still  more  in  comparison." 

That  Amy  had  become  so  interested  in  these  out-door 
neighbors  turned  out  to  their  infinite  advantage,  for  one 
morning  their  excited  cries  of  alarm  secured  her  attention. 
Hastening  to  the  locality  of  their  nest,  she  looked  upon  a 
scene  that  chilled  the  blood  in  her  own  veins.  A  huge 
black-snake  suspended  his  weight  along  the  branches  of 
the  shrubbery  with  entire  confidence  and  ease,  and  was 
in  the  act  of  swallowing  a  fledgling  that,  even  as  Amy 
looked,  sent  out  its  last  despairing  peep.  The  parent  birds 
were  frantic  with  terror,  and  their  anguish  and  fearless 
efforts  to  save  their  young  redeemed  them  forever  in 
Amy's  eyes. 

"Webb!"  she  cried,  since,  for  some  reason,  he  ever 
came  first  to  her  mind  in  an  emergency.  It  so  happened 
that  he  had  just  come  from  the  hay  field  to  rest  awhile 
and  prepare  for  dinner.  In  a  moment  he  was  at  her  side, 
and  followed  with  hasty  glance  her  pointing  finger. 

"Come  away,  Amy,"  he  said,  as  he  looked  at  her  pale 
face  and  dilated  eyes.  "I  do  not  wish  you  to  witness  a  scene 
like  that;"  and  almost  by  force  he  drew  her  to  the  piazza. 
In  a  moment  he  was  out  with  a  breech-loading  gun,  and 
as  the  smoke  of  the  discharge  lifted,  she  saw  a  writhing, 
sinuous  form  fall  heavily  to  the  earth.  After  a  brief  inspec 
tion  Webb  came  toward  her  in  smiling  assurance,  saying: 
"The  wretch  got  only  one  of  the  little  family.  Four  birds 
are  left.  There  now,  don't  feel  so  badly.  You  have  saved 
a  home  from  utter  desolation.  That,  surely,  will  be  a 
pleasant  thing  to  remember." 

"What  could  I  have  done  if  you  had  not  come  ?" 

"I  don't  like  to  think  of  what  you  might  have  done — 
emulated  the  mother- bird,  perhaps,  and  flown  at  the 
enemy. ' ' 


286  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

"I  did  not  know  you  were  near  when  I  called  your 
name,"  she  said.  "It  was  entirely  instinctive  on  my  part; 
and  I  believe,"  she  added,  musingly,  looking  with  a  child's 
directness  into  his  eyes,  "that  one's  instincts  are  usually 
right;  don't  you?" 

He  turned  away  to  hide  the  feeling  of  intense  pleasure 
caused  by  her  words,  but  only  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "I  hope 
I  may  never  fail  you,  Amy,  when  you  turn  to  me  for  help." 
Then  he  added,  quickly,  as  if  hastening  away  from  delicate 
ground:  "While  those  large  black-snakes  are  not  poison 
ous,  they  are  ugly  customers  sometimes.  I  have  read  of 
an  instance  in  which  a  boy  put  his  hand  into  the  hole 
of  a  tree  where  there  had  been  a  bluebird's  nest,  and 
touched  the  cold  scales  of  one  of  these  snakes.  The  boy 
took  to  his  heels,  with  the  snake  after  him,  and  it  is  hard 
to  say  what  would  have  happened  had  not  a  man  plowing 
near  come  to  the  rescue  with  a  heavy  ox- whip.  What  I 
should  fear  most  in  your  case  would  be  a  nervous  shock 
had  the  snake  even  approached  you,  for  you  looked  as  if 
you  had  inherited  from  Mother  Eve  an  unusual  degree 
of  hate  for  the  reptile." 

The  report  of  the  gun  had  attracted  Alf  and  others  to 
the  scene.  Amy,  with  a  look  of  smiling  confidence,  said: 
"Perhaps  you  have  rescued  me  as  well  as  the  birds.  I  can't 
believe,  though,  that  such  a  looking  creature  could  have 
tempted  Eve  to  either  good  or  evil;"  and  she  entered  the 
house,  leaving  him  in  almost  a  friendly  mood  toward  the 
cause  of  the  cat- bird's  woe. 

Alf  exulted  over  the  slain  destroyer,  and  even  Johnnie 
felt  no  compunction  at  the  violent  termination  of  its  life. 
The  Jormer,  with  much  sportsmanlike  importance,  measured 
it,  and  at  the  dinner-table  announced  its  length  to  be  a  little 
over  four  feet. 

"By  the  way,"  said  Webb,  "your  adventure,  Amy,  re 
minds  me  of  one  of  the  finest  descriptions  I  ever  read;" 
and  jumping  up,  he  obtained  from  the  library  Burroughs's 
account  of  a  like  scene  and  rescue.  "I  will  just  give  you 


THE   RESCUE   OF  A    HOME  287 

aome  glimpses  of  the  picture,"  he  said,  reading  the  follow 
ing  sentences:  "  'Three  or  four  yards  from  me  was  the  nest, 
beneath  which,  in  long  festoons,  rested  a  huge  black-snake. 
I  can  conceive  of  nothing  more  overpoweringly  terrible  to 
an  unsuspecting  family  of  birds  than  the  sudden  appear 
ance  above  their  domicile  of  the  head  and  neck  of  this 
arch  enemy.  One  thinks  of  the  great  myth  of  the  tempter 
and  the  cause  of  all  our  woe,  and  wonders  if  the  Arch-One 
is  not  playing  off  some  of  his  pranks  before  him.  Whether 
we  call  it  snake  or  devil  matters  little.  I  could  but  admire 
his  terrible  beauty,  however;  his  black,  shining  folds;  his 
easy,  gliding  movement — head  erect,  eyes  glistening,  tongue 
playing  like  subtile  flame,  and  the  invisible  means  of  his 
almost  winged  locomotion.  Presently,  as  he  came  gliding 
down  the  slender  body  of  a  leaning  alder,  his  attention  was 
attracted  by  a  slight  movement  of  my  arm;  eying  me  an 
instant  with  that  crouching,  utter,  motionless  gaze  which 
I  believe  only  snakes  and  devils  can  assume,  he  turned 
quickly,'  "  etc. 

Amy  shuddered,  and  Mrs.  Clifford  looked  a  little 
troubled  that  the  scene  in  Eden  should  be  spoken  of  as 
merely  a  "myth."  When  she  was  a  child  "Paradise  Lost" 
had  been  her  story-book,  and  the  stories  had  become  real  to 
her.  Burt,  however,  not  to  be  outdone,  recalled  his  classics. 

"By  the  way,"  he  said,  "I  can  almost  parallel  your  de 
scription  from  the  'Iliad'  of  Homer.  I  won't  pretend  that 
I  can  give  you  the  Greek,  and  no  doubt  it  would  be  Greek 
to  you.  I'll  get  even  with  you,  Webb,  however,  and  read 
an  extract  from  Pope's  translation,"  and  he  also  made  an 
excursion  to  the  library.  Returning,  he  said,  "Don't  ask 
me  for  the  connection,"  and  read: 

"  'Straight  to  the  tree  his  sanguine  spires  he  rolled, 
And  curled  around  in  many  a  winding  fold. 
The  topmost  branch  a  mother-bird  possessed; 
Eight  callow  infants  filled  the  mossy  nest; 
Herself  the  ninth:  the  serpent  as  he  hung 
Stretched  his  black  jaws,  and  crashed  the  crying  young : 


288  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

While  hovering  near,  with  miserable  moan, 
The  drooping  mother  wailed  her  children  gone. 
The  mother  last,  as  round  the  nest  she  flew, 
Seized  by  the  beating  wing,  the  monster  slew.'  " 

"Bravo!"  cried  Leonard.  "I  am  now  quite  reconciled 
to  your  four  years  at  college.  Heretofore  I  had  thought  you 
had  passed  through  it  as  Shadrach,  Meshach,  and  Abednego 
passed  through  the  fiery  furnace,  without  even  the  smell  of 
fire  upon  their  garments,  but  I  now  at  last  detect  a  genuine 
Greek  aroma. ' ' 

"I  think  Burt's  quotation  very  pat,"  said  Amy,  "and  I 
could  not  have  believed  that  anything  written  so  long  ago 
would  apply  so  marvellously  to  what  I  have  seen  to-day." 

"Marvellously  pat,  indeed,"  said  Leonard.  "And  since 
your  quotation  has  led  to  such  a  nice  little  pat  on  your 
classical  back,  Burt,  you  must  feel  repaid  for  your  long 
burning  of  the  midnight  oil." 

Burt  flushed  slightly,  but  he  turned  Leonard's  shafts 
with  smiling  assurance,  and  said:  "Amply  repaid.  I  have 
ever  had  an  abiding  confidence  that  my  education  would 
be  of  use  to  me  at  some  time." 

The  long  days  grew  hot,  and  often  sultry,  but  the  season 
brought  unremitting  toil.  The  click  of  the  mowing-machine, 
softened  by  distance,  came  from  field  after  field.  As  the 
grain  in  the  rye  grew  plump  and  heavy,  the  heads  drooped 
more  and  more,  and  changed  from  a  pale  yellow  to  the 
golden  hue  that  announced  the  hour  of  harvest.  In  smooth 
and  level  fields  the  reaping-machine  also  lightened  and 
expedited  labor,  but  there  was  one  upland  slope  that  was 
too  rough  for  anything  except  the  old-fashioned  cradle. 
On  a  breezy  afternoon  Amy  went  out  to  sketch  the  har 
vesters,  and  from  the  shade  of  an  adjacent  tree  to  listen  to 
the  rhythmical  rush  and  rustle  as  the  blade  passed  through 
the  hollow  stocks,  and  the  cradle  dropped  the  gathered 
wealth  in  uniform  lines.  Almost  immediately  the  prostrate 
grain  was  transformed  into  tightly  girthed  sheaves.  How 
black  Abram's  great  paw  looked  as  he  twisted  a  wisp  of 


THE   RESCUE   OF   A    HOME  289 

straw,  bound  together  the  yellow  stalks,  and  tucked  under 
the  end  of  his  improvised  rope ! 

Webb  was  leading  the  reapers,  and  they  had  to  step 
quickly  to  keep  pace  with  him.  As  Amy  appeared  upon 
the  scene  he  had  done  no  more  than  take  off  his  hat  and 
wave  it  to  her,  but  as  the  men  circled  round  the  field  near 
her  again,  she  saw  that  her  acquaintance  of  the  mountain 
cabin  was  manfully  bringing  up  the  rear.  Every  time,  be 
fore  Lumley  stooped  to  the  sweep  of  his  cradle,  she  saw 
that  he  stole  a  glance  toward  her,  and  she  recognized  him 
with  cordial  good-will.  He,  too,  doffed  his  hat  in  grateful 
homage,  and  as  he  paused  a  moment  in  his  honest  toil,  and 
stood  erect,  he  unconsciously  asserted  the  manhood  that  she 
had  restored  to  him.  She  caught  his  attitude,  and  he  be 
came  the  subject  of  her  sketch.  Eude  and  simple  though 
it  was,  it  would  ever  recall  to  her  a  pleasant  picture — the 
diminishing  area  of  standing  rye,  golden  in  the  afternoon 
sunshine,  with  light  billows  running  over  it  before  the 
breeze,  Webb  leading,  with  the  strong,  assured  progress 
that  would  ever  characterize  his  steps  through  life,  and 
poor  Lumley,  who  had  been  wronged  by  generations  that 
had  passed  away,  as  well  as  by  his  own  evil,  following  in 
an  honest  emulation  which  she  had  evoked. 


Vol.  1        aM 


290  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

A     MIDNIGHT     TEMPEST 

AS  far  as  possible,  the  prudent  Leonard,  who  was  com 
mander- in- chief  of  the  harvest  campaign,  had  made 
everything  snug  before  the  Fourth  of  July,  which 
Alf  ushered  in  with  untimely  patriotic  fervor.  Almost  be 
fore  the  first  bird  had  taken  its  head  from  under  its  wing 
to  look  for  the  dawn,  he  had  fired  a  salute  from  a  little  brass 
cannon.  Not  very  long  afterward  the  mountains  up  and 
down  the  river  were  echoing  with  the  thunder  of  the  guns 
at  West  Point  and  Newburgh.  The  day  bade  fair  to  justify 
its  proverbial  character  for  sultriness.  Even  in  the  early 
morning  the  air  was  languid  and  the  heat  oppressive.  The 
sun  was  but  a  few  hours  high  before  the  song  of  the  birds 
almost  ceased,  with  the  exception  of  the  somewhat  sleepy 
whistling  of  the  orioles.  They  are  half  tropical  in  nature  as 
well  as  plumage,  and  their  manner  during  the  heat  of  the 
day  is  like  that  of  languid  Southern  beauties.  They  kept 
flitting  here  and  there  through  their  leafy  retirement  in  a 
mild  form  of  restlessness,  exchanging  soft  notes — pretty 
nonsense,  no  doubt — which  often  terminated  abruptly,  as 
if  they  had  not  energy  enough  to  complete  the  brief  strain 
attempted. 

Alf,  with  his  Chinese  crackers  and  his  cannon,  and 
Johnnie  and  Ned,  with  their  torpedoes,  kept  things  lively 
during  the  forenoon,  but  their  elders  were  disposed  to 
lounge  and  rest.  The  cherry-trees,  laden  with  black  and 
white  ox-hearts,  were  visited.  One  of  the  former  variety 
was  fairly  sombre  with  the  abundance  of  its  dark-hued 


A    MIDNIGHT   TEMPEST  291 

fruit,  and  Amy's  red  lips  grew  purple  as  Burt  threw  her 
down  the  largest  and  ripest  from  the  topmost  boughs. 
Webb,  carrying  a  little  basket  lined  with  grapevine  leaves, 
gleaned  the  long  row  of  Antwerp  raspberries.  The  first 
that  ripen  of  this  kind  are  the  finest  and  most  delicious,  and 
their  strong  aroma  announced  his  approach  long  before  he 
reached  the  house.  His  favorite  Triomphe  de  Grand  straw 
berries,  that  had  supplied  the  table  three  weeks  before,  were 
still  yielding  a  fair  amount  of  fruit,  and  his  mother  was 
never  without  her  dainty  dish  of  pale  red  berries,  to  which 
the  sun  had  been  adding  sweetness  with  the  advancing  sea 
son  until  nature's  combination  left  nothing  to  be  desired. 
By  noon  the  heat  was  oppressive,  and  Alf  and  Ned  were 
rolling  on  the  grass  under  a  tree,  quite  satiated  for  a  time 
with  two  elements  of  a  boy's  elysium,  fire-crackers  and 
cherries.  The  family  gathered  in  the  wide  hall,  through 
the  open  doors  of  which  was  a  slight  draught  of  air.  All 
had  donned  their  coolest  costumes,  and  their  talk  was  quite 
as  languid  as  the  occasional  notes  and  chirpings  of  the  birds 
without.  Amy  was  reading  a  magazine  in  a  very  desultory 
way,  her  eyelids  drooping  over  every  page  before  it  was 
finished,  Webb  and  Burt  furtively  admiring  the  exquisite 
hues  that  the  heat  brought  into  her  face,  and  the  soft  lustre 
of  her  eyes.  Old  Mr.  Clifford  nodded  over  his  newspaper 
until  his  spectacles  clattered  to  the  floor,  at  which  they  all 
laughed,  and  asked  for  the  news.  His  invalid  wife  lay  upon 
the  sofa  in  dreamy,  painless  repose.  To  her  the  time  was 
like  a  long,  quiet  nooning  by  the  wayside  of  life,  with  all 
her  loved  band  around  her,  and  her  large,  dark  eyes  rested 
on  one  and  another  in  loving,  lingering  glances — each  so 
different,  yet  each  so  dear!  Sensible  Leonard  was  losing 
no  time,  but  was  audibly  resting  in  a  great  wooden  rocking- 
chair  at  the  further  end  of  the  hall.  Maggie  only,  the  pre 
siding  genius  of  the  household,  was  not  wilted  by  the  heat. 
She  flitted  in  and  out  occasionally,  looking  almost  girlish  in 
her  white  wrapper.  She  had  the  art  of  keeping  house,  of 
banishing  dust  and  disorder  without  becoming  an  embodi- 


292  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

ment  of  dishevelled  disorder  herself.  No  matter  what  she 
was  doing,  she  always  appeared  trim  and  neat,  and  in  the 
lover- like  expression  of  her  husband's  eyes,  as  they  often 
followed  her,  she  had  her  reward.  She  was  not  deceived 
by  the  semi-torpid  condition  of  the  household,  and  knew 
well  what  would  be  expected  in  a  Fourth-of-July  dinner. 
Nor  was  she  disappointed.  The  tinkle  of  the  bell  at  two 
o'clock  awakened  unusual  animation,  and  then  she  had  her 
triumph.  Leonard  beamed  upon  a  hind-quarter  of  lamb 
roasted  to  the  nicest  turn  of  brownness.  A  great  dish  of 
Champion-of-England  pease,  that  supreme  product  of  the 
kitchen-garden,  was  one  of  the  time-honored  adjuncts,  while 
new  potatoes,  the  first  of  which  had  been  dug  that  day,  had 
half  thrown  off  their  mottled  jackets  in  readiness  for  the 
feast.  Nature  had  been  Maggie's  handmaid  in  spreading 
that  table,  and  art,  with  its  culinary  mysteries  and  combina 
tions,  was  conspicuously  absent.  If  Eve  had  had  a  kitchen 
range  and  the  Garden  of  Eden  to  draw  upon,  Adam  could 
scarcely  have  fared  better  than  did  the  Clifford  household 
that  day.  The  dishes  heaped  with  strawberries,  raspberries, 
cherries,  and  white  grape-currants  that  had  been  gathered 
with  the  dew  upon  them  might  well  tempt  the  most  blase 
resident  of  a  town  to  man's  primal  calling. 

Before  they  reached  their  iced  tea,  which  on  this  hot  day 
took  the  place  of  coffee,  there  was  a  distant  peal  of  thunder. 

"I  knew  it  would  come,"  said  old  Mr.  Clifford.  "We 
shall  have  a  cool  night,  after  all. ' ' 

"A  Fourth  rarely  passes  without  showers,"  Leonard  re 
marked.  "That's  why  I  was  so  strenuous  about  getting  all 
our  grass  and  grain  that  was  down  under  cover  yesterday." 

"You  are  not  the  only  prudent  one,"  Maggie  added, 
complacently.  "I've  made  my  currant  jelly,  and  it  jellied 
beautifully:  it  always  does  if  I  make  it  before  the  Fourth 
and  the  showers  that  come  about  this  time.  It's  queer,  but 
a  rain  on  the  currants  after  they  are  fairly  ripe  almost  spoils 
them  for  jelly. ' ' 

The  anticipations  raised  by  the  extreme  sultriness  were 


A    MIDNIGHT   TEMPEST  293 

fulfilled  at  first  only  in  part.  Instead  of  a  heavy  shower 
accompanied  by  violent  gusts,  there  was  a  succession  of 
tropical  and  vertical  down-pourings,  with  now  and  then  a 
sharp  flash  and  a  rattling  peal,  but  usually  a  heavy  mono 
tone  of  thunder  from  bolts  flying  in  the  distance.  One 
great  cloud  did  not  sweep  across  the  sky  like  a  concen 
trated  charge,  leaving  all  clear  behind  it,  as  is  so  often  the 
case,  but,  as  if  from  an  immense  reserve,  Nature  appeared 
to  send  out  her  vapory  forces  by  battalions.  Instead  of 
enjoying  the  long  siesta  which  she  had  promised  herself, 
Amy  spent  the  afternoon  in  watching  the  cloud  scenery. 
A^few  miles  southwest  of  the  house  was  a  prominent  high 
land  that  happened  to  be  in  the  direct  line  of  the  successive 
showers.  This  formed  a  sort  of  gauge  of  their  advance.  A 
cloud  would  loom  up  behind  it,  darken  it,  obscure  it  until 
it  faded  out  even  as  a  shadow;  then  the  nearer  spurs  of  the 
mountains  would  be  blotted  out,  and  in  eight  or  ten  minutes 
even  the  barn  and  the  adjacent  groves  would  be  but  dim 
outlines  through  the  myriad  rain-drops.  The  cloud  would 
soon  be  well  to  the  eastward,  the  dim  landcape  take  form 
and  distinctness,  and  the  distant  highland  appear  again, 
only  to  be  obscured  in  like  manner  within  the  next  half- 
hour.  It  was  as  if  invisible  and  Titanic  gardeners  were 
stepping  across  the  country  with  their  watering-pots. 

Burt  and  Webb  sat  near  Amy  at  the  open  window,  the 
former  chatting  easily,  and  often  gayly.  Webb,  with  his 
deep-set  eyes  fixed  on  the  clouds,  was  comparatively  silent. 
At  last  he  rose  somewhat  abruptly,  and  was  not  seen  again 
until  evening,  when  he  seemed  to  be  in  unusually  good 
spirits.  As  the  dusk  deepened  he  aided  Alf  and  Johnnie 
in  making  the  finest  possible  display  of  their  fireworks,  and 
for  half  an  hour  the  excitement  was  intense.  The  family 
applauded  from  the  piazza.  Leonard  and  his  father,  re 
membering  the  hay  and  grain  already  stored  in  the  barn, 
congratulated  each  other  that  the  recent  showers  had  pre 
vented  all  danger  from  sparks. 

After  the  last  rocket  had  run  its  brief,  fiery  course,  Alf 


294  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

and  Johnnie  were  well  content  to  go  with  Webb,  Burt,  and 
Amy  to  an  upper  room  whose  windows  looked  out  on  New- 
burgh  Bay  and  to  the  westward.  Near  and  far,  from  their 
own  and  the  opposite  side  of  the  river,  rockets  were  flaming 
into  the  sky,  and  Roman  candles  sending  up  their  globes 
of  fire.  But  Nature  was  having  a  celebration  of  her  own, 
which  so  far  surpassed  anything  terrestrial  that  it  soon  won 
their  entire  attention.  A  great  black  cloud  that  hung  darkly 
in  the  west  was  the  background  for  the  electric  pyrotechnics. 
Against  this  obscurity  the  lightning  played  almost  every 
freak  imaginable.  At  one  moment  there  would  be  an  im 
mense  illumination,  and  the  opaque  cloud  would  become 
vivid  gold.  Again,  across  its  blackness  a  dozen  fiery  rills 
of  light  would  burn  their  way  in  zigzag  channels,  and  not 
infrequently  a  forked  bolt  would  blaze  earthward.  Accom 
panying  these  vivid  and  central  effects  were  constant  illu 
minations  of  sheet  lightning  all  round  the  horizon,  and  the 
night  promised  to  be  a  carnival  of  thunder-showers  through 
out  the  land.  The  extreme  heat  continued,  and  was  ren 
dered  far  more  oppressive  by  the  humidity  of  the  atmosphere. 

The  awful  grandeur  of  the  cloud  scenery  at  last  so  op 
pressed  Amy  that  she  sought  relief  in  Maggie's  lighted  room. 
As  we  have  already  seen,  her  sensitive  organization  was 
peculiarly  affected  by  an  atmosphere  highly  charged  with 
electricity.  She  was  not  re-assured,  for  Leonard  inadver 
tently  remarked  that  it  would  take  "a  rousing  old-fashioned 
storm  to  cool  and  clear  the  air. ' ' 

"Why,  Amy,"  exclaimed  Maggie,  "how  pale  you  are! 
and  your  eyes  shine  as  if  some  of  the  lightning  had  got  into 
them." 

"I  wish  it  was  morning,"  said  the  girl.  "Such  a  sight 
oppresses  me  like  a  great  foreboding  of  evil;"  and,  with  a 
restlessness  she  could  not  control,  she  went  down  to  Mrs. 
Clifford's  room.  She  found  Mr.  Clifford  fanning  the  in 
valid,  who  was  almost  faint  from  the  heat.  Amy  took  his 
place,  and  soon  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  her  charge  drop 
off  into  quiet  slumbe^.  As  Mr.  Clifford  was  very  weary 


A   MIDNIGHT   TEMPEST  295 

also,  Amy  left  them  to  their  rest,  and  went  to  the  sitting- 
room,  where  Webb  was  reading.  Burt  had  fallen  asleep  on 
the  lounge  in  the  hall.  Leonard's  prediction  promised  to 
come  true.  The  thunder  muttered  nearer  and  nearer,  but 
it  was  a  sullen,  slow,  remorseless  approach  through  the 
absolute  silence  and  darkness  without,  and  therefore  was 
tenfold  more  trying  to  one  nervously  apprehensive  than  a 
swift,  gusty  storm  would  have  been  in  broad  day. 

Webb  looked  up  and  greeted  her  with  a  smile.  His 
lamp  was  shaded,  and  the  room  shadowy,  so  that  he  did 
not  note  that  Amy  was  troubled  and  depressed.  "Shall  I 
read  to  you?"  he  asked.  "I  am  running  over  Hawthorne's 
'English  Note-Books'  again." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  in  a  low  voice;  and  she  sat  down  with 
her  back  to  the  windows,  through  which  shone  momentarily 
the  glare  of  the  coming  tempest.  He  had  not  read  a  page 
before  a  long,  sullen  peal  rolled  across  the  entire  arc  of  the 
sky.  "Webb,"  faltered  Amy,  and  she  rose  and  took  an 
irresolute  step  toward  him. 

His  pre-occupation  was  instantly  gone.  Never  had  he 
heard  sweeter  music  than  that  low  appeal,  to  which  the  deep 
echoes  in  the  mountains  formed  a  strange  accompaniment. 
He  stepped  to  her  side,  took  her  hand,  and  found  it  cold 
and  trembling.  Drawing  her  within  the  radiance  of  the 
lamp,  he  saw  how  pale  she  was,  and  that  her  eyes  were 
dilated  with  nervous  dread. 

"Webb,"  she  began  again,  "do  you — do  you  think  there 
is  danger?" 

"No,  Amy,"  he  said,  gently;  "there  is  no  danger  for 
you  In  God's  universe." 

"Oh,  that  frightful  glare!"  and  she  buried  her  face  on  his 
shoulder.  "Webb,"  she  whispered,  "won't  you  stay  up  till 
the  storm  is  over  ?  And  you  won't  think  me  weak  or  silly 
either,  will  you  ?  Indeed,  I  can't  help  it.  I  wish  I  had  a 
little  of  your  courage  and  strength." 

"I  like  you  best  as  you  are,"  he  said;  "and  all  my 
strength  is  yours  when  you  need  it.  I  understand  you, 


296  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

Amy,  and  well  know  you  cannot  help  this  nervous  dread. 
I  saw  how  these  electrial  storms  affected  you  last  February, 
and  such  experiences  are  not  rare  with  finely  organized  na 
tures.  See,  I  can  explain  it  all  with  my  matter-of-fact  phi 
losophy.  But,  believe  me,  there  is  no  danger.  Certainly 
I  will  stay  with  you.  What  would  I  not  do  for  you  ?"  he 
could  not  help  adding. 

She  looked  at  him  affectionately  as  she  said,  with  a 
child's  unconscious  frankness:  "I  don't  know  why  it  is, 
but  I  always  feel  safe  when  with  you.  I  often  used  to 
wish  that  I  had  a  brother,  and  imagine  what  .he  would  be 
to  me;  but  I  never  dreamed  that  a  brother  could  be  so  much 
to  me  as  you  are. — Oh,  Webb!"  and  she  almost  clung  to 
him,  as  the  heavy  thunder  pealed  nearer  than  before. 

Involuntarily  he  encircled  her  with  his  arm,  and  drew 
her  closer  to  him  in  the  impulse  of  protection.  She  felt 
his  arm  tremble,  and  wholly  misinterpreted  the  cause. 
Springing  aloof,  she  clasped  her  hands,  and  looked  around 
almost  wildly. 

"Oh,  Webb,"  she  cried,  "there  is  danger.  Even  you 
tremble." 

Webb  was  human,  and  had  nerves  also,  but  all  the 
thunder  that  ever  roared  could  not  affect  them  so  power 
fully  as  Amy's  head  bowed  upon  his  shoulder,  and  the  ap 
pealing  words  of  her  absolute  trust.  He  mastered  himself 
instantly,  however,  for  he  saw  that  he  must  be  strong  and 
calm  in  order  to  sustain  the  trembling  girl  through  one  of 
Nature's  most  awful  moods.  She  was  equally  sensitive  to 
the  smiling  beauty  and  the  wrath  of  the  great  mother. 
The  latter  phase  was  much  the  same  to  her  as  if  a  loved 
face  had  suddenly  become  black  with  reckless  passion. 
He  took  both  her  hands  in  a  firm  grasp,  and  said:  "Amy, 
I  am  not  afraid,  and  you  must  not  be.  You  can  do  much 
toward  self-control.  Come,"  he  added,  in  tones  almost 
authoritative,  "sitjiere  by  me,  and  give  me  your  hand.  I 
shall  read  to  you  in  a  voice  as  quiet  and  steady  as  you  ever 
heard  me  use." 


A    MIDNIGHT   TEMPEST  .  297 

She  obeyed,  and  lie  kept  his  word.  His  strong,  even 
grasp  reassured  her  in  a  way  that  excited  her  wonder,  and 
the  nervous  paroxysm  of  fear  began  to  pass  away.  While 
she  did  not  comprehend  what  he  read,  his  tones  and  ex 
pression  had  their  influence.  His  voice,  however,  was  soon 
drowned  by  the  howling  of  the  tempest  as  it  rushed  upon 
them.  He  felt  her  hand  tremble  again,  and  saw  her  look 
apprehensively  toward  the  windows. 

"Amy,"  he  said,  and  in  smiling  confidence  he  fixed  his 
eyes  on  hers  and  held  them. 

The  crisis  of  the  storm  was  indeed  terrific.  The  house 
rocked  in  the  furious  blasts.  The  uproar  without  was 
frightful,  suggesting  that  the  Evil  One  was  in  very  truth 
the  "prince  of  the  power  of  the  air,"  and  that  he  was 
abroad  with  all  his  legions.  Amy  trembled  violently,  but 
"Webb's  hand  and  eyes  held  hers.  "Courage!"  he  said, 
cheerily;  "the  storm  is  passing." 

A  wan,  grateful  smile  glimmered  for  a  moment  on  her 
pale  face,  and  then  her  expression  passed  into  one  of  hor 
ror.  With  a  cry  that  was  lost  in  a  deafening  crash,  s'he 
sprang  into  his  arms.  Even  Webb  was  almost  stunned 
and  blinded  for  a  moment.  Then  he  heard  rapid  steps. 
Burt  at  last  had  been  aroused  from  the  slumber  of  youth, 
and,  fortunately  for  his  peace,  rushed  first  into  his  mother's 
room.  Webb  thought  Amy  had  fainted,  and  he  laid  her 
gently  on  the  lounge.  "Don't  leave  me,"  she  gasped, 
faintly. 

"Amy,"  he  said,  earnestly,  "I  assure  you  that  all  dan 
ger  is  now  over.  As  I  told  you  once  before,  the  centre  of 
the  storm  has  passed.  You  know  I  never  deceived  you." 

Maggie  and  Burt  now  came  running  in,  and  Webb  said, 
"Amy  has  had  a  faint  turn.  I  will  get  her  a  glass  of 
water. ' ' 

This  revived  her  speedily,  but  the  truth  of  Webb's 
words  proved  more  efficacious.  The  gale  was  sweeping 
the  storm  from  the  sky.  The  swish  of  the  torrents  mat 
tered  little,  for  the  thunder-peals  died  away  steadily  to  the 


298  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

eastward.  Amy  made  a  great  effort  to  rally,  for  she  felt 
ashamed  of  her  weakness,  and  feared  that  the  others  would 
not  interpret  her  as  charitably  as  Webb  had  done.  In  a 
few  minutes  he  smilingly  withdrew,  and  went  out  on  the 
rear  porch  with  Leonard,  whence  they  anxiously  scanned 
the  barn  and  out- build  ings.  These  were  evidently  safe, 
wherever  the  bolt  had  fallen,  and  it  must  have  struck  near. 
In  half  an  hour  there  was  a  line  of  stars  along  the  western 
horizon,  and  soon  the  repose  within  the  old  house  was  as 
deep  as  that  of  nature  without. 

Webb  only  was  sleepless.  He  sat  at  his  open  window, 
and  saw  the  clouds  roll  away.  But  he  felt  that  a  cloud 
deeper  and  murkier  than  any  that  had  ever  blackened  the 
sky  hung  over  his  life.  He  knew  too  well  why  his  arm. 
had  trembled  when  for  a  moment  it  encircled  Amy.  The 
deepest  and  strongest  impulse  of  his  soul  was  to  protect 
her,  and  her  instinctive  appeal  to  him  had  raised  a  tempest 
in  his  heart  as  wild  as  that  which  had  raged  without.  He 
felt  that  he  could  not  yield  her  to  another,  not  even  to  his 
brother.  Nature  itself  pointed  her  to  him.  It  was  to  him 
she  turned  and  clung  in  her  fears.  And  yet  she  had  not 
even  dreamed  of  his  untold  wealth  of  love,  and  probably 
never  would  suspect  it.  He  could  not  reveal  it — indeed,  it 
must  be  the  struggle  of  his  life  to  hide  it— and  she,  while 
loving  him  as  a  brother,  might  easily  drift  into  an  engage 
ment  and  marriage  with  Burt.  Could  he  be  patient,  and 
wear  a  smiling  mask  through  it  all?  That  tropical  night 
and  its  experiences  taught  him  anew  that  he  had  a  human 
heart,  with  all  its  passionate  cravings.  When  he  came 
down  from  his  long  vigil  on  the  following  morning  his 
brow  was  as  serene  as  the  scene  without.  Amy  gave  him 
a  grateful  and  significant  smile,  and  he  smiled  back  so  nat 
urally  that  observant  Burt,  who  had  been  a  little  uneasy 
over  the  events  of  the  previous  night,  was  wholly  relieved 
of  anxiety.  They  had  scarcely  seated  themselves  at  the 
breakfast-table  before  Alf  came  running  in,  and  said  that 
an  elm  not  a  hundred  yards  from  the  house  had  been  splin- 


A    MIDNIGHT    TEMPEST  299 

tered  from  the  topmost  branch  to  the  roots.  All  except 
Mrs.  Clifford  went  out  to  look  at  the  smitten  tree,  and  they 
gazed  with  awe  at  the  deep  furrow  plowed  in  the  blackened 
wood. 

"It  will  live,"  said  Webb,  quietly,  as  he  turned  away; 
"it  will  probably  live  out  its  natural  life." 

Amy,  in  her  deep  sympathy,  looked  after  him  curi 
ously.  There  was  something  in  his  tone  and  manner 
which  suggested  a  meaning  beyond  his  words.  Not  in 
frequently  he  had  puzzled  her  of  late,  and  this  added  to 
her  interest  in  him.  She  understood  Burt  thoroughly. 

Good  old  Mr.  Clifford  saw  in  the  shattered  tree  only 
reasons  for  profound  thankfulness,  and  words  of  Christian 
gratitude  rose  to  his  lips. 


300  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

THE  TWO   LOVERS 

THE  July  sun  speedily  drank  up  the  superabundant 
moisture,  and  the  farm  operations  went  on  with  ex 
pedition.  The  corn  grew  green  and  strong,  and  its 
leaves  stretched  up  to  Abram's  shoulder  as  he  ran  the  cul 
tivator  through  it  for  the  last  time.  The  moist  sultriness 
of  the  Fourth  finished  the  ox-heart  cherries.  They  decayed 
at  once,  to  Alf's  great  regret.  "That  is  the  trouble  with 
certain  varieties  of  cherries,"  Webb  remarked.  "One 
shower  will  often  spoil  the  entire  crop  even  before  it  is 
ripe."  But  it  so  happened  that  there  were  several  trees  of 
native  or  ungrafted  fruit  on  the  place,  and  these  supplied 
the  children  and  the  birds  for  many  days  thereafter.  The. 
robins  never  ceased  gorging  themselves.  Indeed,  they 
were  degenerating  into  shameless  gourmands,  and  losing 
the  grace  of  song,  as  were  also  the  bobolinks  in  the 
meadows. 

Already  there  was  a  perceptible  decline  in  the  morn 
ing  and  evening  minstrelsy  of  all  the  birds,  and,  with  the 
exception  of  calls  and  twitterings,  they  grew  more  and  more 
silent  through  the  midday  heat.  With  the  white  bloom  of 
the  chestnut-trees  the  last  trace  of  spring  passed  away. 
Summer  reached  its  supreme  culmination,  and  days  that 
would  not  be  amiss  at  the  equator  were  often  followed  by 
nights  of  breathless  sultriness.  Early  in  the  month  haying 
and  harvest  were  over,  and  the  last  load  that  came  down 
the  lane  to  the  barn  was  ornamented  with  green  boughs, 


THE    TWO    LOVERS  301 

and  hailed  with  acclamations  by  the  farm  hands,  to  whom 
a  generous  supper  was  given,  and  something  substantial 
also  to  take  home  to  their  families. 

As  the  necessity  for  prompt  action  and  severe  labor 
passed,  the  Cliffords  proved  that  their  rural  life  was  not 
one  of  plodding,  unredeemed  toil.  For  the  next  few  weeks 
Nature  would  give  them  a  partial  respite.  She  would  finish 
much  of  the  work  which  they  had  begun.  The  corn  would 
mature,  the  oats  ripen,  without  further  intervention  on  their 
part.  By  slow  but  sure  alchemy  the  fierce  suns  would 
change  the  acid  and  bitter  juices  in  the  apples,  peaches, 
plums,  and  pears  into  nectar.  Already  Alf  was  revelling 
in  the  harvest  apples,  which,  under  Maggie's  culinary 
magic,  might  tempt  an  ascetic  to  surfeit. 

While  Burt  had  manfully  done  his  part  in  the  harvest- 
field,  he  had  not  made  as  long  hours  as  the  others,  and  now 
was  quite  inclined  to  enjoy  to  the  utmost  a  season  of  com 
parative  leisure.  He  was  much  with  Amy,  and  she  took 
pleasure  in  his  society,  for,  as  she  characterized  his  manner 
in  her  thoughts,  he  had  grown  very  sensible.  He  had  ac 
cepted  the  situation,  and  he  gave  himself  not  a  little  credit 
for  his  philosophical  patience.  He  regarded  himself  as 
committed  to  a  deep  and  politic  plan,  in  which,  however, 
there  was  no  unworthy  guile.  He  would  make  himself  es 
sential  to  Amy's  happiness.  He  would  be  so  quietly  and 
naturally  devoted  to  her  that  she  would  gradually  come  to 
look  forward  to  a  closer  union  as  a  matter  of  course.  He 
also  made  it  clear  to  her  that  she  had  no  rivals  in  his 
thoughts,  or  even  admiration,  and,  as  far  as  courtesy  per 
mitted,  withdrew  from  the  society  of  a  few  favorites  who 
once  had  welcomed  him  gladly  and  often.  He  had  even 
pretended  indifference  to  the  advent  of  a  dark-eyed  beauty 
to  the  neighborhood,  and  had  made  no  efforts  to  form  her 
acquaintance.  This  stranger  from  the  city  was  so  charm 
ing,  however,  that  he  had  felt  more  than  once  that  he  was 
giving  no  slight  proof  of  constancy.  His  fleet  horse  Thun 
der  was  his  great  ally,  and  in  the  long  twilight  evenings, 


302  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

he,  with  Amy,  explored  the  country  roads  far  and  near. 
When  the  early  mornings  were  not  too  warm  they  rowed 
upon  the  river,  or  went  up  the  Moodna  Creek  for  water- 
lilies,  which  at  that  hour  floated  upon  the  surface  with 
their  white  petals  all  expanded — beautiful  emblems  of  na 
tures  essentially  good.  From  mud  and  slime  they  devel 
oped  purity  and  fragrance.  He  was  also  teaching  Amy  to 
be  an  expert  horsewoman,  and  they  promised  themselves 
many  a  long  ride  when  autumn  coolness  should  make  such 
exercise  more  agreeable. 

Burt  was  a  little  surprised  at  his  tranquil  enjoyment  of 
all  this  companionship,  but  nevertheless  prided  himself 
upon  it.  He  was  not  so  mercurial  and  impetuous  as  the 
others  had  believed  him  to  be,  but  was  capable  of  a  steady 
and  undemonstrative  devotion.  Amy  was  worth  winning 
at  any  cost,  and  he  proposed  to  lay  such  a  patient  siege  that 
she  could  not  fail  to  become  his.  Indeed,  with  a  disposi 
tion  toward  a  little  retaliation,  he  designed  to  carry  his  pa 
tience  so  far  as  to  wait  until  he  had  seen  more  than  once  an 
expression  in  her  eyes  that  invited  warmer  words  and  man 
ner.  But  he  had  to  admit  that  time  was  passing,  and  that 
no  such  expression  appeared.  This  piqued  him  a  little,  and 
he  felt  that  he  was  not  appreciated.  The  impression  grew 
upon  him  that  she  was  very  young — unaccountably  young 
for  one  of  her  years.  She  enjoyed  his  bright  talk  and 
merry  ways  with  much  the  same  spirit  that  Alf's  boyish 
exuberance  called  forth.  She  had  the  natural  love  of  all 
young,  healthful  natures  for  pleasure  and  change,  and  she 
unconsciously  acted  toward  him  as  if  he  were  a  kind,  jolly 
brother  who  was  doing  much  to  give  the  spice  of  variety  to 
her  life.  At  the  same  time  her  unawakened  heart  was  dis 
posed  to  take  his  view  of  the  future.  Why  should  she  not 
marry  him,  after  her  girlhood  had  passed  ?  All  the  family 
wished  and  expected  it,  and  surely  she  liked  him  exceed 
ingly.  But  it  would  be  time  enough  for  such  thoughts 
years  hence.  He  had  the  leisure  and  self-control  for  good- 
comradeship,  and  without  questioning  she  enjoyed  it.  Her 


THE    TWO   LOVERS  303 

life  was  almost  as  free  from  care  as  that  of  the  young  birds 
that  had  begun  their  existence  in  June. 

Only  Webb  perplexed  and  troubled  her  a  little.  At  this 
season,  when  even  Leonard  indulged  in  not  a  little  leisure 
and  rest,  he  was  busy  and  preoccupied.  She  could  not  say 
that  he  avoided  her,  and  yet  it  seemed  to  happen  that  they 
were  not  much  together.  "I  fear  I'm  too  young  and  girlish 
to  be  a  companion  for  him,"  she  sighed.  "His  manner  is 
just  as  kind  and  gentle,  but  he  treats  me  as  if  I  were  his 
very  little  sister.  I  don't  seem  to  have  the  power  to  inter 
est  him  that  I  once  had.  I  wish  I  knew  enough  to  talk  to 
him  as  he  would  like;"  and  she  stealthily  tried  to  read  some 
of  the  scientific  books  that  she  saw  him  poring  over. 

He,  poor  fellow,  was  engaged  in  the  most  difficult  task 
ever  given  to  man — the  ruling  of  his  own  spirit.  He  saw 
her  sisterly  solicitude  and  goodwill,  but  could  not  respond 
in  a  manner  as  natural  as  her  own.  This  was  beyond  human 
capability.  His  best  resource  was  the  comparative  soli 
tude  of  constant  occupation.  He  was  growing  doubtful, 
however,  as  to  the  result  of  his  struggle,  while  Amy  was 
daily  becoming  more  lovely  in  his  eyes.  Her  English  life 
had  not  destroyed  the  native  talent  of  an  American  girl 
to  make  herself  attractive.  She  knew  instinctively  how  to 
dress,  how  to  enhance  the  charms  of  which  nature  had  not 
been  chary,  and  Webb's  philosophy  and  science  were  no 
defence  against  her  winsomeness.  In  her  changeful  eyes 
lurked  spells  too  mighty  for  him.  Men  of  his  caste  rarely 
succumb  to  a  learned  and  aggressive  woman.  They  require 
intelligence,  but  it  is  a  feminine  intelligence,  which  supple 
ments  their  own,  and  is  not  akin  to  it.  .  Webb  saw  in  Amy 
all  that  his  heart  craved,  and  he  believed  that  he  also  saw 
her  fulfilling  Burt's  hopes.  She  seemed  to  be  gradually 
learning  that  the  light-hearted  brother  might  bring  into 
her  life  all  the  sunshine  and  happiness  she  could  desire. 
Webb  depreciated  himself,  and  believed  that  he  was  too 
grave  and  dull  to  win  in  any  event  more  than  the  affection 
which  she  would  naturally  feel  for  an  elder  brother,  and 


304  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

this  she  already  bestowed  upon  him  frankly  and  unstintedly. 
Burt  took  the  same  view,  and  was  usually  complacency 
itself,  although  a  week  seemed  a  long  time  to  him,  and  he 
sometimes  felt  that  he  ought  to  be  making  more  progress. 
But  he  had  no  misgivings.  He  would  be  faithful  for  years, 
and  Amy  could  not  fail  to  reward  such  constancy. 


BURT'S   ADVENTURE  305 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

BURT'.S      ADVENTURE 

NOT  only  had  the  little  rustic  cottages  which  had  been 
placed  on  poles  here  and  there  about  the  Clifford 
dwelling,  and  the  empty  tomato-cans  which  Alf,  at 
Dr.  Marvin's  suggestion,  had  fastened  in  the  trees,  been 
occupied  by  wrens  and  bluebirds,  but  larger  homes  had 
been  taken  for  the  summer  by  migrants  from  the  city. 
Among  these  was  a  Mr.  Hargrove,  a  wealthy  gentleman, 
who  had  rented  a  pretty  villa  on  the  banks  of  the  Hudson, 
a  mile  or  two  away.  Burt,  with  all  his  proposed  lifelong 
constancy,  had  speedily  discovered  that  Mr.  Hargrove  had 
a  very  pretty  daughter.  Of  course,  he  was  quite  indifferent 
to  the  fact,  but  he  could  no  more  meet  a  girl  like  Gertrude 
Hargrove  and  be  unobservant  than  could  Amy  pass  a  new 
and  rare  wildflower  with  unregarMing  eyes.  Mi.-s  Hargrove 
was  not  a  wildflower,  however.  She  was  a  product  of  city 
life,  and  was  perfectly  aware  of  her  unusual  and  exotic 
beauty.  Admiring  eyes  had  followed  her  even  from  child 
hood,  and  no  one  better  than  she  knew  her  power.  Her 
head  had  been  quite  turned  by  flattery,  but  there  was  a 
saving  clause  in  her  nature — her  heart.  She  was  a  belle, 
but  not  a  cold-blooded  coquette.  Admiration  was  like  sun 
shine — a  matter  of  course.  She  had  always  been  accustomed 
to  it,  as  she  had  been  to  wealth,  and  neither  had  spoiled 
her.  Beneath  all  that  was  artificial,  all  that  fashion  pre 
scribed  and  society  had  taught,  was  the  essential  woman 
hood  which  alone  can  win  and  retain  a  true  man's  homage. 
For  reasons  just  the  reverse  of  those  which  explained  Amy's 


306  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORV 

indisposition  to  sentiment,  she  also  had  been  kept  fancy. 
free.  Seclusion  and  the  companionship  o.f  her  father,  who 
had  been  an  invalid  in  his  later  years,  had  kept  the  former 
a  child  in  many  respects,  at  a  time  when  Miss  Hargrove 
had  her  train  of  admirers.  Miss  Gertrude  enjoyed  the  train 
very  much,  but  showed  no  disposition  to  permit  any  one 
of  its  constituents  to  monopolize  her.  Indeed,  their  very 
numbers  had  been  her  safety.  Her  attention  had  been 
divided  and  distracted  by  a  score  of  aspirants,  and  while 
in  her  girlish  eyes  some  found  more  favor  than  others,  she 
was  inclined  to  laughing  criticism  of  them  all.  They  amused 
her  immensely,  and  she  puzzled  them.  Her  almost  velvety 
black  eyes,  and  the  rich,  varying  tints  of  her  clear  brunette 
complexion,  suggested  a  nature  that  was  not  cold  and  un 
responsive,  yet  many  who  would  gladly  have  won  the  heir 
ess  for  her  own  sake  found  her  as  elusive  as  only  a  woman 
of  perfect  tact  and  self-possession  can  be.  She  had  no  vulgar 
ambition  to  count  her  victims  who  had  committed  them 
selves  in  words.  With  her  keen  intuition  and  abundant 
experience  she  recognized  the  first  glance  that  was  warmer 
than  mere  friendliness,  and  this  was  all  the  committal  she 
wished  for.  She  loved  the  admiration  of  men,  but  was  too 
good-hearted  a  girl  to  wish  to  make  them  cynics  in  regard 
to  women.  She  also  had  the  sense  to  know  that  it  is  a  mis 
erable  triumph  to  lure  a  man  to  the  declaration  of  a  supreme 
regard,  and  then  in  one  moment  change  it  into  contempt. 
While,  therefore,  she  had  refused  many  an  offer,  no  one 
had  been  humiliated,  no  one  had  been  made  to  feel  that 
he  had  been  unworthily  trifled  with.  Thus  she  retained  the 
respect  and  goodwill  of  those  to  whom  she  might  easily  have 
become  the  embodiment  of  all  that  was  false  and  heartless. 
She  had  welcomed  the  comparative  seclusion  of  the  villa 
on  the  Hudson,  for,  although  not  yet  twenty,  she  was  grow 
ing  rather  weary  of  society  and  its  exactions.  Its  pleasures 
had  been  tasted  too  often,  its  burdens  were  beginning  to. 
be  felt.  She  was  a  good  horsewoman,  and  was  learning, 
under  the  instruction  of  a  younger  brother,  to  row  as  easily 


BURT'S   ADVENTURE  307 

and  gracefully  on  the  river  as  she  danced  in  the  ballroom, 
and  she  found  the  former  recreation  more  satisfactory,  from 
its  very  novelty. 

Burt  was  well  aware  of  these  outdoor  accomplishments. 
Any  one  inclined  to  rural  pleasures  won  his  attention  at 
once ;  and  Miss  Hargrove,  as  she  occasionally  trotted  smartly 
by  him,  or  skimmed  near  on  the  waters  of  the  Hudson,  was 
a  figure  sure  to  win  from  his  eyes  more  than  a  careless 
glance.  Thus  far,  as  has  been  intimated,  he  had  kept 
aloof,  but  he  had  observed  her  critically,  and  he  found 
little  to  disapprove.  She  also  was  observing  him,  and  was 
quite  as  well  endowed  as  he  with  the  power  of  forming  a 
correct  judgment.  Men  of  almost  every  description  had 
sought  her  smiles,  but  he  did  not  suffer  by  comparison. 
His  tall,  lithe  figure  was  instinct  with  manly  grace.  There 
was  a  fascinating  trace  of  reckless  boldness  in  his  blue  eyes. 
He  rode  like  a  centaur,  and  at  will  made  his  light  boat,  in 
which  Amy  was  usually  seated,  cut  through  the  water  with 
spray  flying  from  its  prow.  In  Miss  Hargrove's  present 
mood  for  rural  life  she  wished  for  his  acquaintance,  and 
was  a  little  piqued  that  he  had  not  sought  hers,  since  her 
father  had  opened  the  way. 

Mr.  Hargrove,  soon  after  his  arrival  in  the  neighbor 
hood,  had  had  business  transactions  with  the  Cliffords, 
and  had  learned  enough  about  them  to  awaken  a  desire 
for  social  relations,  and  he  had  courteously  expressed  his 
wishes.  Maggie  and  Amy  had  fully  intended  compliance, 
but  the  harvest  had  come,  time  had  passed,  and  the  initial 
call  had  not  been  made.  Leonard  was  averse  to  such  for 
malities,  and,  for  reasons  already  explained,  Burt  and  Webb 
were  in  no  mood  for  them.  They  would  not  have  failed  in 
neighborliness  much  longer,  however,  and  'a  call  was  pro 
posed  for  the  first  comparatively  cool  day.  A  little  inci 
dent  now  occurred  which  quite  broke  the  ice,  and  also 
somewhat  disturbed  Burt's  serenity.  Amy  was  not  feeling 
very  well,  and  he  had  gone  out  alone  for  a  ride  on  his 
superb  black  horse  Thunder.  In  a  shady  road  some  miles 


308  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

away,  where  the  willows  interlaced  their  branches  overhead 
in  a  long,  Gothic- like  arch,  he  saw  Miss  Hargrove,  mounted 
also,  coming  slowly  toward  him.  He  never  forgot  the  pic 
ture  she  made  under  the  rustic  archway.  Her  fine  horse 
was  pacing  along  with  a  stately  tread,  his  neck  curved 
tinder  the  restraining  bit,  while  she  was  evidently  amusipg 
herself  by  talking,  for  the  want  of  a  better  companion,  to 
an  immense  Newfoundland  dog  that  was  trotting  at  her 
side,  and  looking  up  to  her  in  intelligent  appreciation. 
Thus,  in  her  preoccupation,  Burt  was  permitted  to  draw 
comparatively  near,  but  as  soon  as  she  observed  him  it  was 
evidently  her  intention  to  pass  rapidly.  As  she  gave  her 
horse  the  rein  and  he  leaped  forward,  she  clutched  his 
mane,  and  by  a  word  brought  him  to  a  standstill.  Burt 
saw  the  trouble  at  once,  for  the  girth  of  her  saddle  had 
broken,  and  hung  loosely  down.  Only  by  prompt  action 
and  good  horsemanship  had  she  kept  her  seat.  Now  she 
was  quite  helpless,  for  an  attempt  to  dismount  would  cause 
the  heavy  saddle  to  turn,  with  unknown  and  awkward  re 
sults.  She  had  recognized  Burt,  and  knew  that  he  was  a 
gentleman;  therefore  she  patted  her  horse  and  quieted  him, 
while  the  young  man  came  promptly  to  her  assistance.  He, 
secretly  exulting  over  the  promise  of  an  adventure,  said, 
suavely,  as  he  lifted  his  hat: 

"Miss  Hargrove,  will  you  permit  me  to  aid  you  ?" 

"Certainly,"  she  replied,  smiling  so  pleasantly  that  the 
words  did  not  seem  ungracious;  "I  have  no  other  resource." 

He  bowed,  leaped  lightly  to  the  ground,  and  fastened  his 
horse  by  the  roadside;  then  came  forward  without  the  least 
embarrassment.  "Your  saddle-girth  has  broken,"  he  said. 
"I  fear  you  must  dismount  Shall  I  lift  you  off?  You 
maintained  your  seat  admirably,  but  a  very  slight  move 
ment  on  your  part  will  cause  the  saddle  to  turn." 

"I  know  that,"  she  replied,  laughing.  "Helplessness  is 
always  awkward.  I  am  only  anxious  to  reach  ground  in 
safety;"  and  she  dropped  the  reins,  and  held  out  her  hands. 

"Your  horse  is  too  high  for  you  to  dismount  in  that 


BURT'S    ADVENTURE  309 

way,"  he  said,  quietly,  "and  the  saddle  might  fall  after  you 
and  hurt  you.  Pardon  me;"  and  he  encircled  her  with  his 
right  arm,  and  lifted  her  gently  off. 

She  blushed  like  the  western  sky,  but  he  was  so  grave 
and  apparently  solicitous,  and  his  words  had  made  his 
course  seem  so  essential,  that  she  could  not  take  offence. 
Indeed,  he  was  now  giving  his  whole  attention  to  the  broken 
girth,  and  she  could  only  await  the  result  of  his  examination. 

"I  think  I  can  mend  it  with  a  strap  from  my  bridle  so 
that  it  will  hold  until  you  reach  home,"  he  said;  "but  I  am 
sorry  to  say  that  I  cannot  make  it  very  secure.  Will  you 
hold  your  horse  a  moment?" 

"I  am  indebted  to  Mr.  Clifford,  I  think,"  she  began, 
hesitatingly. 

"I  am  Mr.  Clifford,  and,  believe  me,  I  am  wholly  at  your 
service.  If  you  had  not  been  so  good  a  horsewoman  you 
might  have  met  with  a  very  serious  accident." 

"Mc-re  thanks  are  due  to  you,  I  imagine,"  she  replied; 
"though  I  suppose  I  could  have  got  off  in  some  way." 

"There  would  have  been  no  trouble  in  your  getting  off," 
he  said,  with  one  of  his  frank,  contagious  smiles;  "but  then 
your  horse  might  have  run  away,  or  you  would  have  had  to 
lead  him  some  distance,  at  least.  Perhaps  it  was  well  that 
the  girth  gave  way  when  it  did,  for  it  would  have  broken 
in  a  few  moments  more,  in  any  event.  Therefore  I  hope 
you  will  tolerate  one  not  wholly  unknown  to  you,  and 
permit  me  to  be  of  service." 

"Indeed,  I  have  only  cause  for  thanks.  I  have  inter 
fered  with  your  ride,  and  am  putting  you  to  trouble." 

"I  was  only  riding  for  pleasure,  and  as  yet  you  have  had 
all  the  trouble. : ' 

She  did  not  look  excessively  annoyed,  and  in  truth  was 
enjoying  •  the  adventure  quite  as  much  as  he  was,  but  she 
only  said:  "You  have  the  finest  horse  there  I  ever  saw. 
How  I  should  like  to  ride  him!" 

"I  fear  he  would  be  ungallant.  He  has  never  been  rid 
den  by  a  lady." 


310  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"I  should  not  be  afraid  so  long  as  the  saddle  remained 
firm.  What  do  you  call  him  ?" 

"Thunder."  At  the  sound  of  his  name  the  beautiful 
animal  arched  his  neck  and  whinnied.  "There,  be  quiet, 
old  fellow,  and  speak  when  you  are  spoken  to,"  Burt  said. 
"He  is  comparatively  gentle  with  me,  but  uncontrollable 
by  others.  1  have  now  done  my  best,  Miss  Hargrove,  and 
I  think  you  may  mount  in  safety,  if  you  are  willing  to  walk 
your  horse  quietly  home.  But  I  truly  think  I  ought  to  ac 
company  you,  and  I  will  do  so  gladly,  with  your  per 
mission." 

"But  it  seems  asking  a  great  deal  of — " 

"Of  a  stranger?  I  wish  I  knew  how  to  bring  about  a 
formal  introduction.  I  have  met  your  father.  Will  you  not 
in  the  emergency  defer  the  introduction  until  we  arrive  at 
your  home?" 

"I  think  we  may  as  well  dispense  with  it  altogether," 
she  said,  laughing.  "It  would  be  too  hollow  a  formality 
after  the  hour  we  must  spend  together,  since  you  think  so 
slow  a  pace  is  essential  to  safety.  Events,  not  we,  are  to 
blame  for  all  failures  in  etiquette." 

"I  was  coming  to  call  upon  you  this  very  week  with  the 
ladies  of  our  house,"  he  began. 

"Indeed!"  she  said,  lifting  her  eyebrows. 

"I  assure  you  of  the  truth  of  what  I  say,"  he  continued, 
earnestly,  turning  his  handsome  eyes  to  hers.  Then  throw 
ing  his  head  back  a  little  proudly,  he  added,  "Miss  Har 
grove,  you  must  know  that  we  are  farmers,  and  midsummer 
brings  the  harvest  and  unwonted  labors." 

With  a  slight,  piquant  imitation  of  his  manner,  she  said: 
"My  father,  you  must  know,  Mr.  Clifford,  is  a  merchant. 
Is  not  that  an  equally  respectable  calling?" 

"Some  people  regard  it  as  far  more  so." 

"Some  people  are  very  silly.  There  is  no  higher  rank 
than  that  of  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Clifford." 

He  took  off  his  hat,  and  said,  laughingly:  "I  hope  it  is 
not  presumption  to  imagine  a  slight  personal  bearing  in  your 


BURT'S   ADVENTURE  311 

remark.  At  least,  let  me  prove  that  I  have  some  claim  to 
the  title  by  seeing  you  safely  home.  Will  you  mount? 
Put  your  foot  in  my  hand,  and  bear  your  whole  weight 
upon  it,  and  none  upon  the  saddle." 

"You  don't  know  how  heavy  I  am." 

"No,  but  I  know  I  can  lift  you.     Try." 

Without  the  least  effort  she  found  herself  in  the  saddle. 
"How  strong  you  are!"  she  said. 

"Yes,"  he  replied,  laughing;  "1  developed  my  muscle, 
if  not  my  brains,  at  college." 

In  a  moment  he  vaulted  lightly  upon  his  horse,  that 
reared  proudly,  but,  at  a  word  from  his  master,  arched  his 
neck  and  paced  as- quietly  as  Miss  Hargrove's  better- trained 
animal.  Burt's  laugh  would  have  thawed  Mrs.  Grundy's 
very  self.  He  was  so  vital  with  youth  and  vigor,  and  his 
flow  of  spirits  so  irresistible,  that  Miss  Hargrove  found  her 
own  nerves  tingling  with  pleasure.  The  episode  was  novel, 
unexpected,  and  promised  so  much  for  the  future,  that  in 
her  delightful  excitement  she  cast  conventionality  to  the 
winds,  and  yielded  to  his  sportive  mood.  They  had  not 
gone  a  mile  together  before  one  would  have  thought  they 
had  been  acquainted  for  years.  Burt's  frank  face  was  like 
the  open  page  of  a  book,  and  the  experienced  society  girl 
saw  nothing  in  it  but  abounding  good- nature,  and  an  enjoy 
ment  as  genuine  as  her  own.  She  was  on  the  alert  for  traces 
of  provincialism  and  rusticity,  but  was  agreeably  disap 
pointed  at  their  absence.  He  certainly  was  unmarked,  and, 
to  her  taste,  unmarred,  by  the  artificial  mode  of  the  day,  but 
there  was  nothing  under- bred  in  his  manner  or  language. 
He  rather  fulfilled  her  ideal  of  the  light-hearted  student 
who  had  brought  away  the  air  of  the  university  without 
being  oppressed  by  its  learning.  She  saw,  with  a  curious 
little  blending  of  pique  and  pleasure,  that  he  was  not  in  the 
least  afraid  of  her,  and  that,  while  claiming  to  be  simply  a 
farmer,  he  unconsciously  asserted  by  every  word  and  glance 
that  he  was  her  equal.  She  had  the  penetration  to  recog 
nize  from  the  start  that  she  could  not  patronize  him  in  the 


312  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

slightest  degree,  that  he  was  as  high-spirited  as  he  was  frank 
and  easy  in  manner,  and  she  could  well  imagine  that  his 
mirthful  eyes  would  flash  with  anger  on  slight  provocation. 
She  had  never  met  just  such  a  type  before,  and  every  mo 
ment  found  her  more  and  more  interested  and  amused. 

It  must  be  admitted  that  his  sensations  kept  pace  with 
hers.  Many  had  found  Miss  Hargrove's  eyes  singularly 
effective  under  ordinary  circumstances,  but  now  her  mood 
gave  them  an  unwonted  lustre  and  power.  Her  color  was 
high,  her  talk  animated  and  piquant.  Even  an  enemy, 
had  she  had  one,  would  have  been  forced  to  admit  that  she 
was  dazzlmgly  beautiful,  and  inflammable  Burt  could  not  be 
indifferent  to  her  charms.  He  knew  that  he  was  not,  but 
complacently  assured  himself  that  he  was  a  good  judge  in 
such  matters. 

Mr.  Hargrove  met  them  at  the  door,  and  his  daughter 
laughingly  told  him  of  her  mishap.  She  evidently  reposed 
in  him  the  utmost  confidence.  He  justified  it  by  meeting 
her  in  like  spirit  with  her  own,  and  he  interpreted  her  un 
spoken  wishes  by  so  cordially  pressing  Burt  to  remain  to 
dinner  that  he  was  almost  constrained  to  yield.  "You  will 
be  too  late  for  your  own  evening  meal,"  he  said,  "and  your 
kindness  to  my  daughter  would  be  ill-requited,  and  our  rep 
utation  for  hospitality  would  suffer,  should  we  let  you  de 
part  without  taking  salt  with  us.  After  all,  Mr.  Clifford, 
we  are  neighbors.  Why  should  there  be  any  formality?" 

Burt  was  the  last  one  to  have  any  scruples  on  such 
grounds,  and  he  resolved  to  have  his  "lark"  out,  as  he 
mentally  characterized  it.  Mr.  Hargrove  had  been  some 
thing  of  a  sportsman  in  his  earlier  days,  and  the  young  fel 
low's  talk  was  as  interesting  to  him  as  it  had  been  to  Miss 
Gertrude.  Fred,  her  younger  brother,  was  quite  captivated, 
and  elegant  Mrs.  Hargrove,  like  her  daughter,  watched  in 
vain  for  mannerisms  to  criticise  in  the  breezy  youth.  The 
evening  was  half  gone  before  Burt  galloped  homeward, 
smiling  broadly  to  himself  at  the  adventure. 

His  absence  had  caused  little  remark  in  the  family.     It 


BURT'S   ADVENTURE  313 

had  been  taken  for  granted  that  he  was  at  Dr.  Marvin's  or 
the  parsonage,  for  the  young  fellow  was  a  great  favorite 
with  their  pastor.  When  he  entered  the  sitting-room,  how 
ever,  there  was  a  suppressed  excitement  in  his  manner  which 
suggested  an  unusual  experience.  He  was  not  slow  in  relat 
ing  all  that  had  happened,  for  the  thought  had  occurred  to 
him  that  it  might  be  good  policy  to  awaken  a  little  jealousy 
in  Amy.  In  this  effort  he  was  obliged  to  admit  to  himself 
that  he  failed  signally.  Even  Webb's  searching  eyes  could 
not  detect  a  trace  of  chagrin.  She  only  seemed  very  much 
amused,  and  was  laughingly  profuse  in  her  congratulations 
to  Burt.  Moreover,  she  was  genuinely  interested  in  Miss 
Hargrove,  and  eager  to  make  her  acquaintance.  "If  she  is 
as  nice  as  you  say,  Burt,"  she  concluded,  "she  would  make 
a  pleasant  addition  to  our  little  excursions  and  pleasure 
parties.  Perhaps  she's  old  and  bright  enough  to  talk  to 
Webb,  and  draw  him  out  of  his  learned  preoccupation," 
she  added,  with  a  shy  glance  toward  the  one  who  was 
growing  too  remote  from  her  daily  life. 

Even  his  bronzed  face  flushed,  but  he  said,  with  a 
laugh:  "She  is  evidently  much  too  bright  for  me,  and 
would  soon  regard  me  as  insufferably  stupid.  I  have 
never  found  much  favor  with  city  dames,  or  with  dames 
of  any  description,  for  that  matter." 

"So  much  the  worse  for  the  dames,  then,"  she  replied, 
with  a  piquant  nod  at  him. 

"Little  sisters  are  apt  to  be  partial  judges — at  least,  one 
is,"  he  said,  smilingly,  as  he  left  the  room.  He  walked  out 
in  the  moonlight,  thinking:  "There  was  not  a  trace  of  jeal 
ousy  in  her  face.  Well,  why  should  there  be?  Burt's  per 
fect  frankness  was  enough  to  prevent  anything  of  the  kind. 
If  there  had  been  cause  for  jealousy,  he  would  have  been 
reticent.  Besides,  Amy  is  too  high-toned  'to  yield  readily 
to  this  vice,  and  Burt  can  never  be  such  an  idiot  as  to 
endanger  his  prospects." 

A  scheme,  however,  was  maturing  in  Burt's  busy  brain 
that  night,  which  he  thought  would  be  a  master-stroke  of 

Vol.  1       aN 


314  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

policy.  He  was  quite  aware  of  the  good  impression  that  he 
had  made  on  Miss  Hargrove,  and  he  determined  that  Amy's 
wishes  should  be  carried  out  in  a  sufficient  degree  at  least  to 
prove  to  her  that  a  city  belle  would  not  be  wholly  indiffer 
ent  to  his  attentions.  "I'll  teach  the  coy  little  beauty  that 
others  are  not  so  blind  as  she  is,  and  I  imagine  that,  with 
Miss  Hargrove's  aid,  I  can  disturb  her  serenity  a  little  before 
many  weeks  pass." 


MISS   HARGROVE  315 


CHAPTER  XL 

MISS     HARGROVE 

BUT  a  few  days  elapsed  before  Mr.  Clifford,  with  Burt, 
Maggie,  and  Amy,  made  the  call  which  would  natu 
rally  inaugurate  an  exchange  of  social  visits.     Mr. 
Hargrove  was  especially  interested  in  the  old  gentleman, 
and  they  were  at  once  deep  in  rural  affairs.     Maggie  was  a 
little  reserved  at  first  with  Mrs.  Hargrove,  but  the  latter, 
with  all  her  stateliness,  was  a  zealous  housekeeper,  and  so 
the  two  ladies  were  soon  en  rapport. 

The  young  people  adjourned  to  the  piazza,  and  their 
merry  laughter  and  animated  talk  proved  that  if  there  had 
been  any  constraint  it  was  vanishing  rapidly.  Amy  was 
naturally  a  little  shy  at  first,  but  Miss  Hargrove  had  the 
tact  to  put  her  guests  immediately  at  ease.  She  proposed 
to  have  a  good  time  during  the  remainder  of  the  summer, 
and  saw  in  Burt  a  means  to  that  end,  while  she  instinctively 
felt  that  she  must  propitiate  Amy  in  order  to  accomplish 
her  purpose.  Therefore  she  was  disposed  to  pay  a  little 
court  to  her  on  general  principles.  She  had  learned  that 
the  young  girl  was  a  ward  of  Mr.  Clifford's.  What  Burt 
was  to  Amy  she  did  not  know,  but  was  sure  she  could  soon 
find  out,  and  his  manner  had  led  to  the  belief  that  he  was 
not  a  committed  and  acknowledged  lover.  She  made  no 
discoveries,  however,  for  he  was  not  one  to  display  a  real 
preference  in  public,  and  indeed,  in  accordance  with  his 
scheme,  she  received  his  most  marked  attentions.  Amy 
also  both  baffled  and  interested  her.  She  could  not  imme 
diately  accept  of  this  genuine  child  of  nature,  whose  very 


316  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

simplicity  was  puzzling.  It  might  be  the  perfection  of  well- 
bred  reserve,  such  complete  art  as  to  appear  artless.  Miss 
Hargrove  had  been  in  society  too  long  to  take  anything  im 
pulsively  on  trust.  Still,  she  was  charmed  with  the  young 
girl,  and  Amy  was  also  genuinely  pleased  with  her  new  ac 
quaintance.  Before  they  parted  a  horseback  ride  was  ar 
ranged,  at  Burt's  suggestion,  for  the  next  afternoon.  This 
was  followed  by  visits  that  soon  lost  all  formality,  boating 
on  the  river,  other  rides,  drives,  and  excursions  to  points  of 
interest  throughout  the  region.  Webb  was  occasionally  led 
to  participate  in  these,  but  he  usually  had  some  excuse  for 
remaining  at  home.  He,  also,  was  a  new  type  to  Miss  Har 
grove,  "indigenous  to  the  soil,"  she  smilingly  said  to  her 
self,  "and  a  fine  growth  too.  With  his  grave  face  and  ways 
he  makes  a  splendid  contrast  to  his  brother."  She  found 
him  too  reticent  for  good-fellowship,  and  he  gave  her  the 
impression  also  that  he  knew  too  much  about  that  which 
was  remote  from  her  life  and  interests.  At  the  same  time, 
with  her  riper  experience,  she  speedily  divined  his  secret,  to 
which  Amy  was  blind.  "He  could  almost  say  his  prayers 
to  Amy,"  she  thought,  as  she  returned  after  an  evening 
spent  at  the  Cliffords',  "and  she  doesn't  know  it." 

With  all  his  frankness,  Burt's  relations  to  Amy  still 
baffled  her.  She  sometimes  thought  she  saw  his  eyes  fol 
lowing  the  young  girl  with  lover-like  fondness,  and  she  also 
thought  that  he  was  a  little  more  pronounced  in  his  atten 
tions  to  her  in  Amy's  absence.  Acquaintanceship  ripened 
into  intimacy  as  plans  matured  under  the  waning  suns  of 
July,  and  the  girls  often  spent  the  night  together.  Amy 
was  soon  beguiled  into  giving  her  brief,  simple  history, 
omitting,  of  course,  all  reference  to  Burt's  passionate  decla 
ration  and  his  subsequent  expectations.  As  far  as  she  her 
self  was  concerned,  she  had  no  experiences  of  this  character 
to  relate,  and  her  nature  was  much  too  fine  to  gossip  about 
Burt.  Miss  Hargrove  soon  accepted  Amy's  perfect  sim 
plicity  as  a  charming  fact,  and  while  the  young  girl  had 
all  the  refinement  and  intelligence  of  her  city  friend,  the 


MISS   HARGROVE  817 

absence  of  certain  phases  of  experience  made  her  compan 
ionship  all  the  more  fascinating  and  refreshing.  It  was  seen 
that  she  had  grown  thus  far  in  secluded  and  sheltered  nooks, 
and  the  ignorance  that  resulted  was  like  morning  dew  upon 
a  flower.  Of  one  thing  her  friend  thought  herself  assured 
— Burt  had  never  touched  Amy's  heart,  and  she  was  as  un 
conscious  of  herself  as  of  Webb's  well-hidden  devotion. 
The  Clifford  family  interested  Miss  Gertrude  exceedingly, 
and  her  innate  goodness  of  heart  was  proved  by  the  fact 
that  she  soon  became  a  favorite  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford. 
She  never  came  to  the  house  without  bringing  flowers  to 
the  latter — not  only  beautiful  exotics  from  the  florists,  but 
wreaths  of  clematis,  bunches  of  meadow-rue  from  her  ram 
bles,  and  water-lilies  and  cardinal-flowers  from  boating  ex 
cursions  up  the  Moodna  Creek — and  the  secluded  invalid 
enjoyed  her  brilliant  beauty  and  piquant  ways  as  if  she  had 
been  a  rare  flower  herself. 

Burt  had  entered  on  his  scheme  with  the  deepest  interest 
and  with  confident  expectations.  As  time  passed,  however, 
he  found  that  he  could  not  pique  Amy  in  the  slightest  de 
gree;  that  she  rather  regarded  his  interest  in  Miss  Hargrove 
as  the  most  natural  thing  in  the  world,  because  she  was  so 
interesting.  Therefore  he  at  last  just  let  himself  drift,  and 
was  content  with  the  fact  that  the  summer  was  passing  de 
lightfully.  That  Miss  Hargrove's  dark  eyes  sometimes 
quickened  his  pulse  strangely  did  not  trouble  him;  it  had 
often  been  quickened  before.  When  they  were  alone,  and 
she  sang  to  him  in  her  rich  contralto,  and  he,  at  her  request, 
added  his  musical  tenor,  it  seemed  perfectly  natural  that  he 
should  bend  over  her  toward  the  notes  in  a  way  that  was  not 
the  result  of  near-sightedness.  Burt  was  amenable  to  other 
attractions  than  that  of  gravitation. 

Webb  was  the  only  one  not  blind  to  the  drift  of  events. 
While  he  forbore  by  word  or  sign  to  interfere,  he  felt  that 
new  elements  were  entering  into  the  problem  of  the  future. 
He  drove  the  farm  and  garden  work  along  with  a  tireless 
energy  against  which  even  Leonard  remonstrated.  But 


318  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

Webb  knew  that  his  most  wholesome  antidote  for  suspense 
and  trouble  was  work,  and  good  for  all  would  come  of  his 
remedy.  He  toiled  long  hours  in  the  oat  harvest.  He 
sowed  seed  which  promised  a  thousand  bushels  of  turnips. 
Land  foul  with  weeds,  or  only  half  subdued,  he  sowed  with 
that  best  of  scavenger  crops,  buckwheat,  which  was  to  be 
plowed  under  as  soon  as  in  blossom.  The  vegetable  and  fruit 
gardens  gave  him  much  occupation,  also,  and  the  table  fairly 
groaned  under  the  over-abundant  supply,  while  Abram  was 
almost  daily  despatched  to  the  landing  or  to  neighboring 
markets  with  loads  of  various  produce.  The  rose  garden, 
however,  seemed  to  afford  Webb  his  chief  recreation  and  a 
place  of  rest,  and  the  roses  in  Amy's  belt  were  the  wonder 
and  envy  of  all  who  saw  them.  His  mother  sometimes 
looked  at  him  curiously,  as  he  still  brought  to  her  the  fin 
est  specimens,  and  one  day  she  said:  "Webb,  I  never  knew 
even  you  to  be  so  tireless  before.  You  are  growing  very 
thin,  and  you  are  certainly  going  beyond  your  strength, 
and — forgive  me — you  seem  restlessly  active.  Have  you 
any  trouble  in  which  mother  can  help  you?" 

"You  always  help  me,  mother,"  he  said,  gently;  "but  I 
have  no  trouble  that  requires  your  or  any  one's  attention. 
I  like  to  be  busy,  and  there  is  much  to  do.  I  am  getting 
the  work  well  along,  so  that  I  can  take  a  trip  in  August,  and 
not  leave  too  much  for  Leonard  to  look  after." 

August  came,  and  with  it  the  promise  of  drought,  but  he 
and  his  elder  brother  had  provided  against  it.  The  young 
trees  had  been  well  mulched  while  the  ground  was  moist, 
and  deep,  thorough  cultivation  rendered  the  crops  safe  un 
less  the  rainless  period  should  be  of  long  duration. 

Already  in  the  rustling  foliage  there  were  whisperings 
of  autumn.  The  nights  grew  longer,  and  were  filled  with 
the  sounds  of  insect  life.  The  robins  disappeared  from 
about  the  house,  and  were  haunting  distant  groves,  be 
coming  as  wild  as  they  had  formerly  been  domestic.  The 
season  of  bird  song  was  over  for  the  year.  The  orioles 
whistled  in  a  languid  and  desultory  way  occasionally,  and 


MISS   HARGROVE  319 

the  smaller  warblers  sometimes  gave  utterance  to  defective 
strains,  but  the  leaders  of  the  feathered  chorus,  the  thrushes, 
were  silent.  The  flower-beds  flamed  with  geraniums  and 
salvias,  and  were  gay  with  gladioli,  while  -Amy  and  Mrs. 
Clifford  exulted  in  the  extent  and  variety  of  their  finely 
quilled  and  rose-like  asters  and  dahlias.  The  foliage  of 
the  trees  had  gained  its  darkest  hues,  and  the  days  passed, 
one  so  like  another  that  nature  seemed  to  be  taking  a  sum 
mer  siesta. 


320  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY, 


CHAPTER   XLI 

A   FIRE   IN   THE   MOUNTAINS 

A  DAY  in  August  can  be  as  depressing  as  a  typical  one 
in  May  is  inspiring,  or  in  June  entrancing.  As  the 
season  advanced  Nature  appeared  to  be  growing  lan 
guid  and  faint.  There  was  neither  cloud  by  day  nor  dew  at 
night.  The  sun  burned  rather  than  vivified  the  earth,  and 
the  grass  and  herbage  withered  and  shrivelled  before  its 
unobstructed  rays.  The  foliage  along  the  roadsides  grew 
dun-colored  from  the  dust,  and  those  who  rode  or  drove  on 
thoroughfares  were  stifled  by  the  irritating  clouds  that  rose 
on  the  slightest  provocation.  Pleasure  could  be  found  only 
on  the  unfrequented  lanes  that  led  to  the  mountains  or  ran 
along  their  bases.  Even  there  trees  that  drew  their  suste 
nance  from  soil  spread  thinly  on  the  rocks  were  seen  to  be 
dying,  their  leaves  not  flushing  with  autumnal  tints,  but 
hanging  limp  and  bleached,  as  if  they  had  exhaled  their 
vital  juices.  The  moss  beneath  them,  that  had  been  softer 
to  the  tread  than  a  Persian  rug,  crumbled  into  powder  un 
der  the  foot.  Alf  went  to  gather  huckleberries,  but,  except 
in  moist  and  swampy  places,  found  them  shrivelled  on  the 
bushes.  Even  the  corn  leaves  began  to  roll  on  the  uplands, 
and  Leonard  shook  his  head  despondingly.  Webb's  anxie 
ties,  however,  were  of  a  far  deeper  character,  and  he  was 
philosophical  enough  to  average  the  year's  income.  If  the 
cows  did  come  home  hungry  from  their  pasture,  there  was 
abundance  of  hay  and  green- corn  fodder  to  carry  them 
through  until  the  skies  should  become  more  propitious. 
Besides,  there  was  an  unfailing  spring  upon  the  place,  and 


A    FIRE    IN   THE    MOUNTAINS  821 

from  this  a  large  cask  on  wheels  was  often  filled,  and  was 
then  drawn  by  one  of  the  quiet  farm-horses  to  the  best 
of  the  flower  beds,  the  young  trees,  and  to  such  products  of 
the  garden  as  would  repay  for  the  expenditure  of  time  and 
labor.  The  ground  was  never  sprinkled  so  that  the  morn 
ing  sun  of  the  following  day  would  drink  up  the  moisture, 
but  so  deluged  that  the  watering  would  answer  for  several 
days.  It  was  well  known  that  partial  watering  does  only 
harm.  Nature  can  be  greatly  assisted  at  such  times,  but  it 
must  be  in  accordance  with  her  laws.  The  grapevine  is  a 
plant  that  can  endure  an  unusual  degree  of  drought,  and 
the  fruit  will  be  all  the  earlier  and  sweeter  for  it.  An  ex 
cellent  fertilizer  for  the  grape  is  suds  from  the  laundry,  and 
by  filling  a  wide,  shallow  basin,  hollowed  out  from  the  earth 
around  the  stems,  with  this  alkaline  infusion,  the  vines  were 
kept  in  the  best  condition.  The  clusters  of  the  earlier,  varie 
ties  were  already  beginning  to  color,  and  the  season  insured 
the  perfect  ripening  of  those  fine  old  kinds,  the  Isabella  and 
Catawba,  that  too  often  are  frost-bitten  before  they  become 
fit  for  the  table. 

Thus  it  would  appear  that  Nature  has  compensations  for 
her  worst  moods — greater  compensations  than  are  thought 
of  by  many.  Drought  causes  the  roots  of  plants  and  trees 
to  strike  deep,  and  so  extends  the  range  of  their  feeding- 
ground,  and  anchors  vegetation  of  all  kinds  more  firmly  in 
the  soil. 

Nevertheless,  a  long  dry  period  is  always  depressing. 
The  bright  green  fades  out  of  the  landscape,  the  lawns  and 
grass-plots  become  brown  and  sear,  the  air  loses  its  sweet, 
refreshing  vitality,  and  is  often  so  charged  with  smoke 
from  forest-fires,  and  impalpable  dust,  that  respiration  is 
not  agreeable.  Apart  from  considerations  of  profit  and 
loss,  the  sympathy  of  the  Clifford  household  was  too  deep 
with  Nature  to  permit  the 'indifference  of  those  whose  gar 
den  is  the  market  stall  and  the  florist's  greenhouse,  and  to 
whom  vistas  in  hotel  parlors  and  piazzas  are  the  most  at 
tractive. 


322  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

"It  seems  to  me,"  Leonard  remarked  at  the  dinner-table 
one  day,  "that  droughts  are  steadily  growing  more  serious 
and  frequent." 

"They  are, "  replied  his  father.  "While  I  remember  a 
few  in  early  life  that  were  more  prolonged  than  any  we  have 
had  of  late  years,  they  must  have  resulted  from  exceptional 
causes,  for  we  usually  had  an  abundance  of  rain,  and  did 
not  suffer  as  we  do  now  from  violent  alternations  of  weather. 
There  was  one  year  when  there  was  scarcely  a  drop  of  rain 
throughout  the  summer.  Potatoes  planted  in  the  late  spring 
were  found  in  the  autumn  dry  and  unsprouted.  But  such 
seasons  were  exceedingly  rare,  and  now  droughts  are  the 
rule." 

"And  the  people  are  chiefly  to  blame  for  them,"  said 
Webb.  "We  are  suffering  from  the  law  of  heredity.  Our 
forefathers  were  compelled  to  fell  the  trees  to  make  room 
for  the  plow,  and  now  one  of  the  strongest  impulses  of  the 
average  American  is  to  cut  down  a  tree.  Our  forests,  on 
which  a  moist  climate  so  largely  depends,  are  treated  as  if 
they  encumbered  the  ground.  The  smoke  that  we  are 
breathing  proves  that  fires  are  ravaging  to  the  north  and 
west  of  us.  They  should  be  permitted  no  more  than  a  fire 
in  the  heart  of  a  city.  The  future  of  the  country  depends 
upon  the  people  becoming  sane  on  this  subject.  If  we  will 
send  to  the  Legislature  pot-house  politicans  who  are  chiefly 
interested  in  keeping  up  a  supply  of  liquor  instead  of  water, 
they  should  be  provided  with  a  little  primer  giving  the  con 
dition  of  lands  denuded  of  their  forests.  There  is  scarcely 
anything  in  their  shifty  ways,  their  blind  zeal  for  what  the 
'deestrict'  wants  to-day,  regardless  of  coming  days,  that  so 
irritates  me  as  their  stupidity  on  this  subject.  A  man  who 
votes  against  the  protection  of  our  forests  is  not  fit  for  the 
office  of  rpad-master.  After  all,  the  people  are  to  blame, 
and  their  children  will  pay  dear  for  their  ignorance. and  the 
spirit  which  finds  expression  in  the  saying,  'After  me  the 
deluge' ;  and  there  will  be  flood  and  drought  until  every  foot 
of  land  not  adapted  to  cultivation  and  pasturage  is  again 


A    FIRE   IN    THE   MOUNTAINS  323 

covered  with  trees.  Indeed,  a  great  deal  of  good  land 
should  be  given  up  to  forests,  for  then  what  was  cultivated 
would  produce  far  more  than  could  be  obtained  from  a  tree 
less  and  therefore  rainless  country." 

"Bravo,  Webb!"  cried  Burt;  "we  must  send  you  to  the 
Legislature." 

"How  is  the  evil  to  be  prevented  ?"  Leonard  asked. 

"Primarily  by  instruction  and  the  formation  of  public 
opinion.  The  influence  of  trees  on  the  climate  should  be 
taught  in  all  our  schools  as  thoroughly  as  the  multiplica 
tion-table.  The  national  and  state  governments  would  then 
be  compelled  to  look  beyond  the  next  election,  and  to  ap 
point  foresters  who  would  have  the  same  power  to  call  out 
the  people  to  extinguish  a  forest  fire  that  the  sheriff  has  to 
collect  his  posse  to  put  down  mob  violence.  In  the  long- 
run  fire  departments  in  our  forest  tracts  would  be  more  use 
ful  than  the  same  in  cities,  for,  after  all,  cities  depend  upon 
the  country  and  its  productiveness.  The  owners  of  wood 
land  should  be  taught  the  folly  of  cutting  everything  before 
them,  and  of  leaving  the  refuse  brush  to  become  like  tin 
der.  The  smaller  growth  should  be  left  to  mature,  and  the 
brush  piled  and  burned  in  a  way  that  would  not  involve  the 
destruction  of  every  sprout  and  sapling  over  wide  areas. 
As  it  is,  we  are  at  the  mercy  of  every  careless  boy,  and 
such  vagrants  as  Lumley  used  to  be  before  Amy  woke  him 
up.  It  is  said — and  with  truth  at  times,  I  fear — that  the 
shiftless  mountaineers  occasionally  start  the  fires,  for  a  fire 
means  brief  high-priced  labor  for  them,  and  afterward  an 
abundance  of  whiskey." 

Events  furnished  a  practical  commentary  on  Webb's 
words.  Miss  Hargrove  had  come  over  to  spend  the  night 
with  Amy,  and  to  try  some  fine  old  English  glees  that  she 
had  obtained  from  her  city  home.  They  had  just  ad 
journed  from  the  supper-table  to  the  piazza  when  Lumley 
appeared,  hat  in  hand.  He  spoke  to  Leonard,  but  looked 
at  Amy  with  a  kind  of  wondering  admiration,  as  if  he  could 
not  believe  that  the  girl,  who  looked  so  fair  and  delicate  in 


324  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

her  evening  dress,  so  remote  from  him  and  his  surroundings, 
could  ever  have  given  him  her  hand,  and  spoken  as  if  their 
humanity  had  anything  in  common. 

The  Cliffords  were  informed  that  a  fire  had  broken  out 
on  a  tract  adjoining  their  own.  "City  chaps  was  up  there 
gunning  out  o'  season,"  Lumley  explained,  "and  wads 
from  their  guns  must  'a  started  it." 

As  there  was  much  wood  ranked  on  the  Clifford  tract, 
the  matter  was  serious.  Abram  and  other  farm-hands  were 
summoned,  and  the  brothers  acted  as  did  the  minute-men 
in  the  Revolution  when  the  enemy  appeared  in  their  vicin 
ity.  The  young  men  excused  themselves,  and  bustle  and 
confusion  followed.  Burt,  with  a  flannel  blouse  belted 
tightly  around  his  waist,  soon  dashed  up  to  the  front 
piazza  on  his  horse,  and,  flourishing  a  rake,  said,  laugh 
ingly,  "I  don't  look  much  like  a  knight  sallying  forth  to 
battle— do  I?" 

"You  look  as  if  you  could  be  one  if  the  occasion  arose," 
Miss  Hargrove  replied. 

During  the  half-jesting  badinage  that  followed  Amy 
stole  away.  Behind  the  house  Webb  was  preparing  to 
mount,  when  a  light  hand  fell  on  his  shoulder.  "You 
will  be  careful?"  said  Amy,  appealingly.  "You  don't 
seem  to  spare  yourself  in  anything.  I  dread  to  have  you 
go  up  into  those  darkening  mountains." 

"Why,  Amy,"  he  replied,  laughing,  "one  would  think 
I  was  going  to  fight  Indians,  and  you  feared  for  my  scalp." 

"I  am  not  so  young  and  blind  but  that  I  can  see  that  you 
are  quietly  half  reckless  with  yourself,"  she  replied;  and 
her  tone  indicated  that  she  was  a  little  hurt. 

"I  pledge  you  my  word  that  I  will  not  be  reckless  to 
night;  and,  after  all,  this  is  but  disagreeable,  humdrum 
work  that  we  often  have  to  do.  Don't  worry,  little  sister. 
Burt  will  be  there  to  watch  over  me,  you  know,"  he  added. 
"By  the  way,  where  is  he?  It's  time  we  were  off." 

"Oh,  he's  talking  romantic  nonsense  to  Miss  Hargrove. 
He  won't  hurt  himself.  I  wish  I  was  as  sure  of  you,  and  I 


A    FIRE   IN    THE   MOUNTAINS  325 

wish  I  had  more  influence  over  you.  I'm  not  such  a  very 
little  sister,  even  if  I  don't  know  enough  to  talk  to  you  as 
you  would  like;"  and  she  left  him  abruptly. 

He  mastered  a  powerful  impulse  to  spring  from  his  horse 
and  call  her  back.  A  moment's  thought  taught  him,  how 
ever,  that  he  could  not  trust  himself  then  to  say  a  word,  and 
he  rode  rapidly  away. 

"I  must  be  misunderstood,"  he  muttered.  "That  is  the 
best  chance  for  us  both,  unless — "  But  he  hesitated  to  put 
into  words  the  half-formed  hope  that  Miss  Hargrove's  ap 
pearance  in  the  little  drama  of  their  lives  might  change 
its  final  scenes.  "She's  jealous  of  her  friend,  at  last,"  he 
concluded,  and  this  conviction  gave  him  little  comfort. 
Burt  soon  overtook  him,  and  their  ride  was  comparatively 
silent,  for  each  was  busy  with  his  own  thoughts.  Lumley 
was  directed  to  join  them  at  the  fire,  and  then  was  forgotten 
by  all  except  Amy,  who,  by  a  gentle  urgency,  induced  him 
to  go  to  the  kitchen  and  get  a  good  supper.  Before  he  de 
parted  she  slipped  a  banknote  into  his  hand  with  which 
to  buy  a  dress  for  the  baby.  Lumley  had  to  pass  more  than 
one  groggery  on  his  way  to  the  mountains,  but  the  money 
was  as  safe  in  his  pocket  as  it  would  have  been  in  Amy's. 

"Iswow!  I  could  say  my  prayers  to  her!"  he  solilo 
quized,  as  he  hastened  through  the  gathering  darkness  with 
his  long,  swinging  stride.  "I  didn't  know  there  was  sich 
gells.  She's  never  lectured  me  once,  but  she  jest  smiles 
and  looks  a  feller  into  bein'  a  man." 

Miss  Hargrove  had  noted  Amy's  influence  over  the 
mountaineer,  and  she  asked  for  an  explanation.  Amy,  in 
a  very  brief,  modest  way,  told  of  her  visits  to  the  wretched 
cabin,  and  said,  in  conclusion:  "I  feel  sorry  for  poor 
Lumley.  The  fact  that  he  is  trying  to  do  better,  with  so 
much  against  him,  proves  what  he  might  have  been.  That's 
one  of  the  things  that  trouble  me  most,  as  I  begin  to  think 
and  see  a  little  of  life;  so  many  people  have  no  chance  worth 
speaking  of. ' ' 

"The  thing  that  ought  to  trouble  me  most  is,  I  suppose, 


326  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

that  those  who  have  a  chance  do  so  little  for  such  people. 
Amy,"  she  added,  sadly,  after  a  moment's  thought,  "I've 
had  many  triumphs  over  men,  but  none  like  yours;  and 
I  feel  to-night  as  if  I  could  give  them  all  to  see  a  man  look 
at  me  as  that  poor  fellow  looked  at  you.  It  was  the  grate 
ful  homage  of  a  human  soul  to  whom  you  had  given  some 
thing  that  in  a  dim  way  was  felt  to  be  priceless.  The  best 
that  I  can  remember  in  my  pleasure-loving  life  is  that 
I  have  not  permitted  myself  selfishly  and  recklessly  to 
destroy  manhood,  but  I  fear  no  one  is  the  better  for  hav 
ing  known  me." 

"You  do  yourself  injustice,"  said  Amy,  warmly.  "I'm 
the  better  and  happier  for  having  known  you.  Papa  had  a 
morbid  horror  of  fashionable  society,  and  this  accounts  for 
my  being  so  unsophisticated.  With  all  your  experience  of 
such  society,  I  have  perfect  faith  in  you,  and  could  trust 
you  implicitly." 

"Have  you  truly  faith  in  me?"  (and  Amy  thought  she 
had  never  seen  such  depth  and  power  in  human  eyes  as  in 
those  of  Miss  Hargrove,  who  encircled  the  young  girl  with 
her  arm,  and  looked  as  if  seeking  to  detect  the  faintest 
doubt). 

"Yes,"  said  Amy,  with  quiet  emphasis. 

Miss  Hargrove  drew  along  breath,  and  then  said:  "That 
little  word  may  do  me  more  good  than  all  the  sermons  I  ever 
heard.  Many  would  try  to  be  different  if  others  had  more 
faith  in  them.  I  think  that  is  the  secret  of  your  power  over 
the  rough  man  that  has  just  gone.  You  recognized  the  good 
that  was  in  him,  and  made  him  conscious  of  it.  Well,  I  must 
try  to  deserve  your  trust."  Then  she  stepped  out  on  the 
dusky  piazza,  and  sighed,  as  she  thought:  "It  may  cost  me 
dear.  She  seemed  troubled  at  my  words  to  Burt,  and  stole 
away  as  if  she  were  the  awkward  third  person.  I  may  have 
misjudged  her,  and  she  cares  for  him  after  all." 

Amy  went  to  the  piano,  and  played  softly  until  sum 
moned  without  by  an  excited  exclamation  from  her  friend. 
A  line  of  fire  was  creeping  toward  them  around  a  lofty 


A    FIRE   IN   THE   MOUNTAINS  327 

highland,  and  it  grew  each  moment  more  and  more  distinct. 
"Oh,  I  know  from  its  position  that  it's  drawing  near  our 
tract,"  cried  Amy.  "If  it  is  so  bright  to  us  at  this  distance, 
it  must  be  almost  terrible  to  those  near  by.  I  suppose  they 
are  all  up  there  just  in  front  of  it,  and  Burt  is  so  reckless." 
She  was  about  to  say  Webb,  but,  because  of  some  unrecog 
nized  impulse,  she  did  not.  The  utterance  of  Burt's  name, 
however,  was  not  lost  on  Miss  Hargrove. 

For  a  long  time  the  girls  watched  the  scene  with  awe, 
and  each,  in  imagination,  saw  an  athletic  figure  begrimed 
with  smoke,  and  sending  out  grotesque  shadows  into  the 
obscurity,  as  the  destroying  element  was  met  and  fought 
in  ways  unknown  to  them,  which,  they  felt  sure,  involved 
danger.  Miss  Hargrove  feared  that  they  both  had  the  same 
form  in  mind.  She  was  not  a  girl  to  remain  long  uncon 
scious  of  her  heart's  inclinations,  and  she  knew  that  Burt 
Clifford  had  quickened  her  pulses  as  no  man  had  ever  done 
before.  This  very  fact  made  her  less  judicial,  less  keen,  in 
her  insight.  If  he  was  so  attractive  to  her,  could  Amy  be 
indifferent  to  him  after  months  of  companionship  ?  She 
had  thought  that  she  understood  Amy  thoroughly,  but  was 
beginning  to  lose  faith  in  her  impression.  While  in  some 
respects  Amy  was  still  a  child,  there  were  quiet  depths  in 
her  nature  of  which  the  young  girl  herself  was  but  half  con 
scious.  She  often  lapsed  into  long  reveries.  Webb's  course 
troubled  her.  Never  had  he  been  more  fraternal  in  his 
manner,  but  apparently  she  was  losing  her  power  to  interest 
him,  to  lure  him  away  from  the  material  side  of  life.  "I 
can't  keep  pace  with  him,"  she  sighed;  "and  now  that  he 
has  learned  all  about  my  little  range  of  thoughts  and 
knowledge,  he  finds  that  I  can  be  scarcely  more  to  him 
than  Johnnie,  whom  he  pets  in  much  the  same  spirit  that 
he  does  me,  and  then  goes  to  his  work  or  books  and  forgets 
us  both.  He  could  help  me  so  much,  if  he  only  thought  it 
worth  his  while!  I'm  sure  I'm  not  contented  to  be  igno 
rant,  and  many  of  the  things  that  he  knows  so  much  about 
interest  me  most." 


328  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

Thus  each  girl  was  busy  with  her  thoughts,  as  they  sat 
in  the  warm  summer  night  and  watched  the  vivid  line  draw 
nearer.  Mr.  Clifford  and  Maggie  came  out  from  time  to 
time,  and  were  evidently  disturbed  by  the  unchecked  prog 
ress  of  the  fire.  Alf  had  gone  with  his  father,  and  any 
thing  like  a  conflagration  so  terrified  Johnnie  that  she  dared 
not  leave  her  mother's  lighted  room. 

Suddenly  the  approaching  line  grew  dim,  was  broken, 
and  before  very  long  even  the  last  red  glow  disappeared 
utterly.  "Ah,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  rubbing  his  hands,  "they 
have  got  the  fire  under,  and  I  don't  believe  it  reached  our 
tract. ' ' 

"How  did  they  put  it  out  so  suddenly  ?"  Miss  Hargrove 
asked.  "Were  they  not  fighting  it  all  the  time  ?" 

"The  boys  will  soon  be  here,  and  they  can  give  you  a 
more  graphic  account  than  I.  Mother  is  a  little  excited  and 
troubled,  as  she  always  is  when  her  great  babies  are  away 
on  such  affairs,  so  I  must  ask  you  to  excuse  me. " 

In  little  more  than  half  an  hour  a  swift  gallop  was  heard, 
and  Burt  soon  appeared,  in  the  light  of  the  late-rising  moon. 
"It's  all  out,"  he  exclaimed.  "Leonard  and  Webb  propose 
remaining  an  hour  or  two  longer,  to  see  that  it  does  not 
break  out  again.  There's  no  need  of  their  doing  so,  for 
Lumley  promised  to  watch  till  morning.  I'm  not  fit  to  be 
seen.  If  you'll  wait  till  I  put  on  a  little  of  the  aspect  of 
a  white  man,  I'll  join  you. "  He  had  been  conscious  of  a 
feverish  impatience  to  get  back  to  the  ladies,  having  care 
fully,  even  in  his  thoughts,  employed  the  plural,  and  he 
had  feared  that  they  might  have  retired. 

Miss  Hargrove  exclaimed:  "How  absurd!  You  wish  to 
go  and  divest  yourself  of  all  picturesqueness !  I've  seen 
well-dressed  men  before,  and  would  much  prefer  that  you 
should  join  us  as  you  are.  We  can  then  imagine  that 
you  are  a  bandit  or  a  frontiersman,  and  that  your  rake 
was  a  rifle,  which  you  had  used  against  the  Indians.  We 
are  impatient  to  have  you  tell  us  how  you  fought  the  fire." 

He  gave  but  scant  attention  to  Thunder  that  night,  and 


A    FIRE   IN   THE   MOUNTAINS  329 

soon  stepped  out  on  the  moonlit  piazza,  his  tall,  fine  figure 
outlined  to  perfection  in  his  close-fitting  costume. 

"You  will,  indeed,  need  all  your  imagination  to  make 
anything  of  our  task  to-night,"  he  said.  "Fighting  a 
mountain  fire  is  the  most  prosaic  of  hard  work.  Suppose 
the  line  of  fire  coming  down  toward  me  from  where  you  are 
sitting."  As  yet  unknown  to  him,  a  certain  subtile  flame 
was  originating  in  that  direction.  ' '  We  simply  begin  well 
in  advance  of  it,  so  that  we  may  have  time  to  rake  a  space, 
extending  along  the  whole  front  of  the  fire,  clear  of  leaves 
and  rubbish,  and  as  far  as  possible  to  hollow  out  with  hoes 
a  trench  through  this  space.  Thus,  when  the  fire  comes  to 
this  cleared  area,  there  is  nothing  to  burn,  and  it  goes  out 
for  want  of  fuel.  Of  course,  it's  rough  work,  and  it  must 
be  done  rapidly,  but  you  can  see  that  all  the  heroic  ele 
ments  which  you  may  have  associated  with  our  expedition 
are  utterly  lacking. ' ' 

"Well,  no  matter.  Amy  and  I  have  had  our  little  ro 
mance,  and  have  imagined  you  charging  the  line  of  fire  in 
imminent  danger  of  being  strangled  with  smoke,  if  nothing 
worse." 

Amy  soon  heard  Maggie  bustling  about,  preparing  a  mid 
night  lunch  for  those  who  would  come  home  hungry  as  well 
as  weary,  and  she  said  that  she  would  go  and  try  to  help. 
To  Burt  this  seemed  sufficient  reason  for  her  absence,  but 
Miss  Hargrove  thought,  "Perhaps  she  saw  that  his  eyes 
were  fixed  chiefly  on  me  as  he  gave  his  description.  I  wish 
I  knew  just  how  she  feels  toward  him!" 

But  the  temptation  to  remain  in  the  witching  moonlight 
was  too  strong  to  be  resisted.  His  mellow  tones  were  a 
music  that  she  had  never  heard  before,  and  her  eyes  grew 
lustrous  with  suppressed  feeling,  and  a  happiness  to  which 
she  was  not  sure  she  was  entitled.  The  spell  of  her  beauty 
was  on  him  also,  and  the  moments  flew  by  unheeded,  until 
Amy  was  heard  playing  and  singing  softly  to  herself.  "She 
does  not  join  us  again!"  was  Miss  Hargrove's  mental  com 
ment,  and  with  not  a  little  compunction  she  rose  and  went 


330  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

into  the  parlor.  Burt  lighted  a  cigar,  in  the  hope  that  the 
girls  W9uld  again  join  him,  but  Leonard,  Webb,  and  Alf 
returned  sooner  than  they  were  expected,  and  all  speedily 
sat  down  to  their  unseasonable  repast.  To  Amy's  surprise, 
Webb  was  the  liveliest  of  the  party,  but  he  looked  gaunt 
from  fatigue — so  worn,  indeed,  that  he  reminded  her  of  the 
time  when  he  had  returned  from  Burt's  rescue.  But  there 
was  no  such  episode  as  had  then  occurred  before  they  parted 
for  the  night,  and  to  this  she  now  looked  back  wistfully. 
He  rose  before  the  others,  pleaded  fatigue,  and  went  to 
his  room. 


CAMPING    OUT  331 


CHAPTER  XLII 

CAMPING   OUT 

THEY  all  gathered  at  a  late  breakfast,  and  the  surface 
current  of  family  and  social  life  sparkled  as  if  there 
were  no  hidden  depths  and  secret  thoughts.  Amy's 
manner  was  not  cold  toward  Webb,  but  her  pride  was 
touched,  and  her  feelings  were  a  little  hurt.  While  dis 
posed  to  blame  herself  only  that  she  had  not  the  power 
to  interest  him  and  secure  his  companionship,  as  in  the 
past,  it  was  not  in  human  nature  to  receive  with  indiffer 
ence  such  an  apparent  hint  that  he  was  far  beyond  her.  "It 
would  be  more  generous  in  Webb  to  help  than  to  ignore 
me  because  I  know  so  little,"  she  thought.  "Very  well: 
I  can  have  a  good  time  with  Burt  and  Gertrude  until  Webb 
gets  over  his  hurry  and  preoccupation;"  and  with  a  slight 
spirit  of  retaliation  she  acted  as  if  she  thoroughly  enjoyed 
Burt's  lively  talk. 

The  young  fellow  soon  made  a  proposition  that  caused 
a  general  and  breezy  excitement.  "There  never  was  a  better 
time  than  this  for  camping  out,"  he  said.  "The  ground  is 
dry,  and  there  is  scarcely  any  dew.  I  can  get  two  large 
wall  tents.  Suppose  we  go  up  and  spend  a  few  days  on  our 
mountain  tract  ?  Maggie  could  chaperon  the  party,  and  I've 
no  doubt  that  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Marvin  would  join  us." 

The  discussion  of  the  project  grew  lively.  Maggie  was 
inclined  to  demur.  How  could  she  leave  the  old  people 
and  her  housekeeping?  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford,  however, 
became  the  strongest  advocates  of  the  scheme.  They  could 
get  along  with  the  servants,  they  said,  and  a  little  outing 


332  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

would  do  Maggie  good.  Leonard,  who  had  listened  in  com 
parative  silence,  brought  his  wife  to  a  decision  by  saying: 
"You  had  better  go,  Maggie.  You  will  have  all  the  house 
keeping  you  want  on  the  mountain,  and  I  will  go  back  and 
forth  every  day  and  see  that  all's  right.  It's  not  as  if  you 
were  beyond  the  reach  of  home,  for  you  could  be  here  in  an 
hour  were  there  need.  Come  now,  make  up  your  mind  for 
a  regular  lark.  It  will  do  you  good." 

The  children  were  wild  with  delight  at  the  prospect,  and 
Miss  Hargrove  and  Amy  scarcely  less  pleased.  The  latter 
had  furtively  watched  Webb,  who  at  first  could  not  disguise 
a  little  perplexity  and  trouble  at  the  prospect.  But  he  had 
thought  rapidly,  and  felt  that  a  refusal  to  be  one  of  the 
party  might  cause  embarrassing  surmises.  Therefore  he 
also  soon  became  zealous  in  his  advocacy  of  the  plan. 
He  felt  that  circumstances  were  changing  and  controlling 
his  action.  He  had  fully  resolved  on  an  absence  of  some 
weeks,  but  the  prolonged  drought  and  the  danger  it  in 
volved — the  Cliffords  would  lose  at  least  a  thousand  dollars 
should  a  fire  sweep  over  their  mountain  tract — made  it  seem 
wrong  for  him  to  leave  home  until  rain  insured  safety. 
Moreover,  he  believed  that  he  detected  symptoms  in  Burt 
which,  with  his  knowledge  of  his  brother,  led  to  hopes  that 
he  could  not  banish.  An  occasional  expression  in  Miss 
Hargrove's  dark  eyes,  also,  did  not  tend  to  lessen  these 
hopes.  "The  lack  of  conventionality  incident  to  a  moun 
tain  camp,"  he  thought,  "may  develop  matters  so  rapidly 
as  to  remove  my  suspense.  With  all  Amy's  gentleness,  she 
is  very  sensitive  and  proud,  and  Burt  cannot  go  much  fur 
ther  with  Miss  Hargrove  without  so  awakening  her  pride  as 
to  render  futile  all  efforts  to  retrieve  himself.  After  all, 
Miss  Hargrove,  perhaps,  would  suit  him  far  better  than 
Amy.  They  are  both  fond  of  excitement  and  society. 
Why  can't  we  all  be  happy?  At  least,  if  the  way  were 
clear,  I  would  try  as  no  man,  ever  tried  to  win  Amy,  and  I 
should  be  no  worse  off  than  I  am  if  I  failed  in  the  attempt." 

These  musings  were  rather  remote  from  his  practical 


CAMPING    OUT  333 

words,  for  he  had  taken  pains  to  give  the  impression  that 
their  woodland  would  be  far  safer  for  the  proposed  expedition, 
and  Amy  had  said,  a  little  satirically,  "  We  are  now  sure  of 
Webb,  since  he  can  combine  so  much  business  with  pleasure. " 

He  only  smiled  back  in  an  inscrutable  way. 

Musk-melons  formed  one  of  their  breakfast  dishes,  and 
Miss  Hargrove  remarked,  "Papa  has  been  exceedingly  an 
noyed  by  having  some  of  his  finest  ones  stolen." 

Burt  began  laughing,  and  said:  "He  should  imitate  my 
tactics.  Ours  were  stolen  last  year,  and  as  they  approached 
maturity,  some  time  since,  I  put  up  a  notice  in  large  black 
letters,  'Thieves,  take  warning:  be  careful  not  to  steal  the 
poisoned  melons.'  Hearing  a  dog  bark  one  night  about  a 
week  ago,  I  took  a  revolver  and  went  out.  The  moonlight 
was  clear,  and  there,  reading  the  notice,  was  a  group  of 
ragamuffin  boys.  Stealing  up  near  them,  behind  some 
shrubbery,  I  fired  my  pistol  in  the  air,  and  they  fairly 
tumbled  over  each  other  in  their  haste  to  escape.  We've 
had  no  trouble  since,  I  can  assure  you.  I'll  drive  you 
home  this  morning,  and,  with  your  father's  permission, 
will  put  up  a  similar  notice  in  your  garden.  We  also 
must  make  our  arrangements  for  camping  promptly.  This 
weather  can't  last  much  longer.  It  surely  will  not  if  our 
mountain  experience  makes  us  wish  it  would;"  and,  full  of 
his  projects,  he  hastened  to  harness  Thunder  to  his  light 
top-wagon. 

He  might  have  taken  the  two-seated  carriage,  and  asked 
Amy  to  accompany  them,  but  it  had  not  occurred  to  him  to 
do  so,  especially  as  he  intended  to  drive  on  rapidly  to  New- 
burgh  to  make  arrangements  for  the  tents.  She  felt  a  little 
slighted  and  neglected,  and  Miss  Hargrove  saw  that  she  did, 
but  thought  that  any  suggestion  of  a  different  arrangement 
might  lead  to  embarrassment.  She  began  to  think,  with 
Webb,  that  the  camping  experience  would  make  everything 
clearer.  At  any  rate,  it  promised  so  much  unhackneyed 
pleasure  that  she  resolved  to  make  the  most  of  it,  and  then 
decide  upon  her  course.  She  was  politic,  and  cautioned 


334  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

Burt  to  say  nothing  until  she  had  first  seen  her  father,  for 
she  was  not  certain  how  her  stately  and  conventional  mother 
would  regard  the  affair.  She  pounced  upon  Mr.  Hargrove 
in  his  library,  and  he  knew  from  her  preliminary  caresses 
that  some  unusual  favor  was  to  be  asked. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "you  wily  little  strategist,  what  do  you 
want  now  ?  Half  of  my  kingdom  ?" 

She  explained  rather  incoherently. 

His  answer  was  unexpected,  for  he  asked,  "Is  Mr.  Burt 
Clifford  in  the  parlor?" 

"No,"  she  replied,  faintly;  "he's  on  the  piazza."  Then, 
with  unusual  animation,  she  began  about  the  melons.  Her 
father's  face  softened,  and  he  looked  at  her  a  little  hu 
morously,  for  her  flushed,  handsome  face  would  disarm  a 
Puritan.. 

"You  are  seeing  a  great  deal  of  this  young  Mr.  Clif 
ford,"  he  said. 

Her  color  deepened,  and  she  began,  hastily,  "Oh,  well, 
papa,  I've  seen  a  good  deal  of  a  great  many  gentlemen." 

"Come,  come,  Trurie,  no  disguises  with  me.  Your  old 
father  is  not  so  blind  as  you  think,  and  I've  not  lived  to  my 
time  of  life  in  ignorance  of  the  truth  that  prevention  is  bet 
ter  than  cure.  Whether  you  are  aware  of  it  or  not,  your 
eyes  have  revealed  to  me  a  growing  interest  in  Mr.  Clifford." 

She  hid  her  face  upon  his  shoulder. 

"He  is  a  comparatively  poor  man,  I  suppose,  and  while 
I  think  him  a  fine  fellow,  I've  seen  in  him  no  great  aptness 
for  business.  If  I  saw  that  he  was  no  more  to  you  than  oth 
ers  who  have  sought  your  favor,  I  would  not  say  a  word, 
Trurie,  for  when  you  are  indifferent  you  are  abundantly  able 
to  take  care  of  yourself.  I've  been  expecting  this.  I  knew 
you  would  in  time  meet  some  one  who  would  have  the  power 
to  do  more  than  amuse  you,  and  my  love,  darling,  is  too 
deep  and  vigilant  to  be  blind  until  it  is  too  late  to  see.  You 
are  merely  interested  in  Mr.  Clifford  now.  You  might  be 
come  more  than  interested  during  an  experience  like  the  one 
proposed. ' ' 


CAMPING    OUT  335 

"If  I  should,  papa,  am  I  so  poor  that  I  have  not  even 
the  privilege  of  a  village  girl,  who  can  follow  her  heart?" 

"My  advice  would  be,"  he  replied,  gently,  "that  you 
guide  yourself  by  both  reason  and  your  heart.  This  is  our 
secret  council-chamber,  and  one  is  speaking  to  you  who  has 
no  thought  but  for  your  lasting  happiness." 

She  took  a  chair  near  him,  and  looked  into  his  eyes,  as 
she  said,  thoughtfully  and  gravely:  "I  should  be  both  silly 
and  unnatural,  did  I  not  recognize  your  motive  and  love. 
I  know  I  am  not  a  child  any  longer,  and  should  have  no 
excuse  for  any  school-girl  or  romantic  folly.  You  have 
always  had  my  confidence;  you  would  have  had  it  in  this 
case  as  soon  as  there  was  anything  to  tell.  I  scarcely  un 
derstand  myself  as  yet,  but  must  admit  that  I  am  more 
interested  in  Mr.  Clifford  than  in  any  man  I  ever  met,  and, 
as  you  said,  I  also  have  not  reached  my  time  of  life  without 
knowing  what  this  may  lead  to.  .  You  married  mamma  when 
she  was  younger  than  I,  and  you,  too,  papa,  were  'a  com 
paratively  poor  man'  at  the  time.  I  have  thought  a  great 
deal  about  it.  I  know  all  that  wealth  and  fahionable  soci 
ety  can  give  me,  and  I  tell  you  honestly,  papa,  I  would 
rather  be  the  happy  wife  that  Maggie  Clifford  is  than  marry 
any  millionaire  in  New  York.  There  is  no  need,  however, 
for  such  serious  talk,  for  there  is  nothing,  yet  beyond  con 
genial  companionship,  and —  Well,"  she  added,  hastily, 
in  memory  of  Amy,  "I  don't  believe  anything  will  come 
of  it.  But  I  want  to  go  on  this  expedition.  There  will 
probably  be  two  married  ladies  in  the  party,  and  so  I  don't 
see  that  even  mamma  can  object.  Eest  assured  I  shall  never 
become  engaged  to  any  one  without  your  consent;  that  is," 
she  added,  with  another  of  her  irresistible  caresses,  "unless 
you  are  very  unreasonable,  and  I  become  very  old." 

"Very  well,  Trurie,  you  shall  go,  with  your  mother's 
consent,  and  I  think  I  can  insure  that.  As  you  say,  you 
are  no  longer  a  child."  And  his  thought  was,  "I  have  seen 
enough  of  life  to  know  that  it  is  best  not  to  be  too  arbitrary 
in  such  matters. ' '  After  a  moment  he  added,  gravely,  ' '  You 


NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

say  you  have  thought.  Think  a  great  deal  more  before 
you  take  any  steps  which  may  involve  all  your  future." 

Burt  was  growing  uneasy  on  the  piazza,  and  feared  that 
Miss  Hargrove  might  not  obtain  the  consent  that  she  had 
counted  on  so  confidently.  He  was  a  little  surprised,  also, 
to  find  how  the  glamour  faded  out  of  his  anticipations  at  the 
thought  of  her  absence,  but  explained  his  feeling  by  saying 
to  himself,  "She  is  so  bright  and  full  of  life,  and  has  so  fine 
a  voice,  that  we  should  miss  her  sadly."  He  was  greatly 
relieved,  therefore,  when  Mr.  Hargrove  came  out  and  greeted 
him  courteously.  Gertrude  had  been  rendered  too  conscious, 
by  her  recent  interview,  to  accompany  her  father,  but  she 
soon  appeared,  and  no  one  could  have  imagined  that  Burt 
was  more  to  her  than  an  agreeable  acquaintance.  Mrs.  Har 
grove  gave  a  reluctant  consent,  and  it  was  soon  settled  that 
they  should  try  to  get  off  on  the  afternoon  of  the  following 
day.  Burt  also  included  in  the  invitation  young  Fred  Har 
grove,  and  then  drove  away  elated. 

At  the  dinner-table  he  announced  his  success  in  procur 
ing  the  tents,  and  his  intention  of  going  for  them  in  the 
afternoon.  At  the  same  time  he  exhorted  Leonard  and 
Maggie  to  prepare  provisions  adequate  to  mountain  appe 
tites,  adding,  "Webb,  I  suppose,  will  be  too  busy  to  do 
more  than  join  us  at  the  last  moment." 

Webb  said  nothing,  but  disappeared  after  dinner.  As 
he  was  at  supper  as  usual,  no  questions  were  asked.  Before 
it  was  light  the  next  morning  Amy  thought  she  heard  steps 
on  the  stairs,  and  the  rear  hall-door  shut  softly.  When 
finally  awaking,  she  was  not  sure  but  that  her  impression 
was  a  dream.  As  she  came  down  to  breakfast  Burt  greeted 
her  with  dismay. 

"The  tents,  that  I  put  on  the  back  piazza,  are  gone," 
Be  said. 

"Where  is  Webb?"  was  her  quick  response. 

No  one  had  seen  him,  and  it  was  soon  learned  that  a 
horse  and  a  strong  wagon  were  also  missing. 

"Ah,  Burt,"  cried  Amy,  laughing,  "rest  assured  Webb 


CAMPING    OUT  337 

has  stolen  a  march  on  you,  and  taken  his  own  way  of  retali 
ation  for  what  you  said  at  the  dinner-table  yesterday.  He 
was  away  all  the  afternoon,  too.  I  believe  he  has  chosen 
a  camping-ground,  and  the  tents  are  standing  on  it." 

"He  should  have  remembered  that  others  might  have 
some  choice  in  the  matter,"  was  the  discontented  reply. 

"If  Webb  has  chosen  the  camping-ground,  you  will  all 
be  pleased  with  it,"  said  his  mother,  quietly.  "I  think  he 
is  merely  trying  to  give  a  pleasant  surprise. ' ' 

He  soon  appeared,  and  explained  that,  with  Lumley's 
help,  he  had  made  some  preparations,  since  any  suitable 
place,  with  water  near,  from  which  there  was  a  fine  outlook, 
would  have  seemed  very  rough  and  uninviting  to  the  ladies 
unless  more  work  was  done  than  could  be  accomplished  in 
the  afternoon  of  their  arrival. 

"Now  I  think  that  is  very  thoughtful  of  you,  Webb," 
said  Amy.  "The  steps  I  heard  last  night  were  not  a  dream. 
At  what  unearthly  hour  did  you  start?" 

"Was  I  so  heavy-footed  as  to  disturb  you ?" 

"Oh,  no,  Webb,"  she  said,  with  a  look  of  comic  distress, 
in  which  there  was  also  a  little  reproach;  "it's  not  your  feet 
that  disturb  me,  but  your  head.  You  have  stuffed  it  so  full 
of  learning  that  I  am  depressed  by  the  emptiness  of  mine." 

He  laughed,  as  he  replied,  "I  hope  all  your  troubles  may 
be  quite  as  imaginary."  Then  he  told  Leonard  to  spend 
the  morning  in  helping  Maggie,  who  would  know  best  what 
was  needed  for  even  mountain  housekeeping,  and  said  that 
he  would  see  to  farm  matters,  and  join  them  early  in  the 
evening.  The  peaches  were  ripening,  and  Amy,  from  her 
window,  saw  that  he  was  taking  from  the  trees  all  fit  to  mar 
ket;  also  that  Abram,  under  his  direction,  was  busy  with 
the  watering-cart.  "Words  cannot  impose  upon  me,"  she 
thought,  a  little  bitterly.  "He  knows  how  I  long  for  his 
companionship,  and  it's  not  a  little  thing  to  be  made  to  feel 
that  I  am  scarcely  better  qualified  for  it  than  Johnnie." 

Burt  galloped  over  to  Dr.  Marvin's,  who  promised  to 
join  them,  with  his  wife,  on  the  following  day.  He  had  a 

Vol.  1       aO 


338  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

tent  which  he  had  occasionally  used  in  his  ornithological 
pursuits. 

At  two  in  the  afternoon  a  merry  party  started  for  the 
hills.  All  the  vehicles  on  the  farm  had  been  impressed 
into  the  service  to  bring  up  the  party,  with  chairs,  cook 
ing-utensils,  provisions,  bedding,  etc.  When  they  reached 
the  ground  that  Webb  had  selected,  even  Burt  admitted  his 
pleased  surprise.  The  outlook  over  the  distant  river,  and 
a  wide  area  of  country  dotted  with  villages,  was  superb, 
while  to  the  camp  a  home-like  look  had  already  been  given, 
and  the  ladies,  with  many  mental  encomiums,  saw  how  se 
el  aded  and  inviting  an  aspect  had  been  imparted  to  their 
especial  abode.  As  they  came  on  the  scene,  Lumley  was 
finishing  the  construction  of  a  dense  screen  of  evergreen 
boughs,  which  surrounded  the  canvas  to  the  doorway. 
Not  far  away  an  iron  pot  was  slung  on  a  cross-stick  in 
gypsy  style,  and  it  was  flanked  by  rock- work  fireplaces 
which  Maggie  declared  were  almost  equal  to  a  kitchen 
range.  The  men's  tent  was  pitched  at  easy  calling  dis 
tance,  and,  like  that  of  the  ladies,  was  surrounded  by  a 
thick  growth  of  trees,  whose  shade  would  be  grateful.  A 
little  space  had  been  cleared  between  the  two  tents  for  a 
leaf-canopied  dining- hall,  and  a  table  of  boards  impro 
vised.  The  ground,  as  far  as  possible,  had  been  cleared  of 
loose  stones  and  rubbish.  Around  the  fireplace  mossy 
rocks  abounded,  and  were  well  adapted  for  picturesque 
groupings.  What  touched  Amy  most  was  a  little  flower 
bed  made  of  the  rich  black  mould  of  decayed  leaves,  in 
which  were  some  of  her  favorite  flowers,  well  watered. 
This  did  not  suggest  indifference  on  the  part  of  Webb. 
About  fifty  feet  from  the  tents  the  mountain  shelf  sloped 
off  abruptly,  and  gave  the  magnificent  view  that  has  been 
mentioned.  Even  Burt  saw  how  much  had  been  gained  by 
Webb's  forethought,  and  frankly  acknowledged  it.  As  it 
was,  they  had  no  more  than  time  to  complete  the  arrange 
ments  for  the  night  before  the  sun's  level  rays  lighted  up 
a  scene  that  was  full  of  joyous  activity  and  bustle.  The 


CAMPING    OUT  339 

children's  happy  voices  made  the  echoes  ring,  and  Fred 
Hargrove,  notwithstanding  his  city  antecedents,  yielded 
with  delight  to  the  love  of  primitive  life  that  exists  in 
every  boy's  heart.  Although  he  was  a  few  years  older 
than  Alf,  they  had  become  friendly  rivals  as  incipient 
sportsmen  and  naturalists.  Amy  felt  that  she  was  coming 
close  to  nature's  heart,  and  the  novelty  of  it  all  was  scarcely 
less  exciting  to  her  than  to  Johnnie.  To  little  Ned  it  was 
a  place  of  wonder  and  enchantment,  and  he  kept  them  all 
in  a  mild  state  of  terror  by  his  exploring  expeditions.  At 
last  his  father  threatened  to  take  him  home,  and,  with  this 
awful  punishment  before  his  eyes,  he  put  his  thumb  in  his 
mouth,  perched  upon  a  rock,  and  philosophically  watched 
the  preparations  for  supper.  Maggie  was  the  presiding 
genius  of  the  occasion,  and  looked  like  the  light-hearted 
girl  that  Leonard  had  wooed  more  than  a  dozen  years  be 
fore.  She  ordered  him  around,  jested  with  him,  and  laughed 
at  him  in  such  a  piquant  way  that  Burt  declared  she  was 
proving  herself  unfit  for  the  duties  of  chaperon  by  getting 
up  a  flirtation  with  her  husband.  Meanwhile,  under  her 
supervision,  order  was  evoked  from  chaos,  and  appetizing 
odors  arose  from  the  fireplace. 

Miss  Hargrove  admitted  to  herself  that  in  all  the  past 
she  had  never  known  such  hours  of  keen  enjoyment,  and 
she  was  bent  on  proving  that,  although  a  city- bred  girl,  she 
could  take  her  part  in  the  work  as  well  as  in  the  fun.  Nor 
were  her  spirits  dampened  by  the  fact  that  Burt  was  often 
at  her  side,  and  that  Amy  did  not  appear  to  care.  The  lat 
ter,  however,  was  becoming  aware  of  his  deepening  inter 
esting  in  her  brilliant  friend.  As  yet  she  was  not  sure 
whether  it  was  more  than  a  good-natured  and  hospitable 
effort  to  make  one  so  recently  a  stranger  at  home  with 
them,  or  a  new  lapse  on  his  part  into  a  condition  of  ever- 
enduring  love  and  constancy — and  the  smile  that  followed 
the  thought  was  not  flattering  to  Burt. 

A  little  before  supper  was  ready  Maggie  asked  him  to 
get  a  pail  of  water. 


NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"Come,  Miss  Gertrude,"  he  said,  "and  I'll  show  you 
the  Continental  spring  at  which  the  Revolutionary  soldiers 
drank  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago;"  and  she  tripped 
away  with  him,  nothing  loth.  As  they  reappeared,  flushed 
and  laughing,  carrying  the  pail  between  them,  Amy  trilled 
out, 

"Jack  and  Jill  came  up  the  hill." 

A  moment  later,  Webb  followed  them,  on  horseback, 
and  was  greeted  with  acclamations  and  overwhelmed  with 
compliments.  Miss  Hargrove  was  only  too  glad  of  the  di 
version  from  herself,  for  Amy's  words  had  made  her  ab 
surdly  conscious  for  a  society  girl. 

They  feasted  through  the  long  twilight.  Never  had 
green  corn,  roasted  in  its  husks  on  the  coals,  tasted  so  de 
licious,  and  never  before  were  peaches  and  cream  so  am 
brosial.  Amy  made  it  her  care  that  poor  Lumley  should 
feast  also,  but  the  smile  with  which  she  served  him  was 
the  sustenance  he  most  craved.  Then,  as  the  evening 
breeze  grew  chilly,  and  the  night  darkened,  lanterns  were 
hung  in  the  trees,  the  fire  was  replenished,  and  they  sat 
down,  the  merriest  of  merry  parties.  Even  Webb  had 
vowed  that  he  would  ignore  the  past  and  the  future,  and 
make  the  most  of  that  camp-fire  by  the  wayside  of  life. 
It  must  be  admitted,  however,  that  his  discovery  of  Burt 
and  Miss  Hargrove  alone  at  the  spring  had  much  to  do 
with  his  resolution.  Stories  and  songs  succeeded  each 
other,  until  Ned  was  asleep  in  Maggie's  arms,  and  Johnnie 
nodding  at  her  side.  In  reaction  from  the  excitements  and 
fatigues  of  the  day,  they  all  early  sought  the  rest  which  is 
uever  found  in  such  perfection  as  in  a  mountain  camp. 
Hemlock  boughs  formed  the  mattresses  on  which  their 
blankets  were  spread,  and  soon  there  were  no  sounds  ex 
cept  the  strident  chirpings  of  insects  and  the  calls  of  night- 
birds. 

There  was  one  perturbed  spirit,  however,  and  at  last 
Burt  stole  out  and  sat  by  the  dying  fire.  When  the  mind 


CAMPING    OUT 

is  ready  for  impressions,  a  very  little  thing  will  produce 
them  vividly,  and  Amy's  snatch  of  song  about  "Jack  and 
Jill"  had  awakened  Burt  at  last  to  a  consciousness  that  he 
might  be  carrying  his  attention  to  Miss  Hargrove  too  far,  in 
view  of  his  vows  and  inexorable  purpose  of  constancy.  He 
assured  himself  that  his  only  object  was  to  have  a  good  time, 
and  enjoy  the  charming  society  of  his  new  acquaintance.  Of 
course,  he  was  in  love  with  Amy,  and  she  was  all  that  he 
could  desire.  Perhaps  he  had  pursued  the  wrong  tactics. 
Girls  even  like  Amy  were  not  so  unsophisticated  as  they 
appeared  to  be,  and  he  felt  that  he  was  profoundly  experi 
enced  in  such  questions,  if  in  nothing  else.  Had  not  her 
pride  been  touched  ?  and  would  she  not  be  led,  by  his  evi 
dent  admiration  for  Miss  Hargrove,  to  believe  that  he  was 
mercurial  and  not  to  be  depended  upon  ?  He  had  to  admit 
to  himself  that  some  experiences  in  the  past  had  tended  to 
give  him  this  reputation.  "I  was  only  a  boy  then,"  he  mut 
tered,  with  a  stern  compression  of  the  lips.  "I'll  prove  that 
I  am  a  man  now;"  and  having  made  this  sublime  resolu 
tion,  he  slept  the  sleep  of  the  just. 

All  who  have  known  the  freshness,  the  elasticity,  the 
mental  and  physical  vigor,  with  which  one  springs  from  a 
bed  of  boughs,  will  envy  the  camping  party's  awakening  on 
the  following  morning.  Webb  resolved  to  remain  and  watch 
the  drift  of  events,  for  he  was  growing  almost  feverish  in  his 
impatience  for  more  definite  proof  that  his  hopes  were  not 
groundless.  But  he  was  doomed  to  disappointment  and  in 
creasing  doubt.  Burt  began  to  show  himself  a  skilful  diplo 
matist.  He  felt  that,  perhaps,  he  had  checked  himself 
barely  in  time  to  retrieve  his  fortunes  and  character  with 
Amy,  but  he  was  too  adroit  to  permit  any  marked  change 
to  appear  in  his  manner  and  action.  He  said  to  himself 
that  he  cordially  liked  and  admired  Miss  Hargrove,  but  he 
believed  that  she  had  enjoyed  not  a  few  flirtations,  and  was 
not  averse  to  the  addition  of  another  to  the  list.  Even  his 
self-complacency  had  not  led  him  to  think  that  she  regarded 
him  in  any  other  light  than  that  of  a  very  agreeable  and  use- 


342  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

ful  summer  friend.  He  had  seen  enough  of  society  to  be 
aware  that  such  temporary  friendships  often  border  closely 
on  the  sentimental,  and  yet  with  no  apparent  trace  remain 
ing  in  after-years.  To  Amy,  however,  such  affairs  would 
not  appear  in  the  same  light  as  they  might  to  Miss  Har 
grove,  and  he  felt  that  he  had  gone  far  enough.  But  not 
for  the  world  would  he  be  guilty  of  gaucherie,  of  neglecting 
Miss  Hargrove  for  ostentatious  devotion  to  Amy.  Indeed, 
he  was  more  pronounced  in  his  admiration  than  ever,  but  in 
many  little  unobtrusive  ways  he  tried  to  prove  to  Amy  that 
she  had  his  deeper  thoughts.  She,  however,  was  not  at  this 
time  disposed  to  dwell  upon  the  subject.  His  manner 
merely  tended  to  confirm  the  view  that  he,  like  herself,  re 
garded  Miss  Hargrove  as  a  charming  addition  to  their  circle, 
and  proposed  that  she  should  enjoy  herself  thoroughly  while 
with  them.  Amy  also  reproached  herself  a  little  that  she 
had  doubted  him  so  easily,  and  felt  that  he  was  giving  re 
newed  proof  of  his  good  sense.  He  could  be  true  to  her, 
and  yet  be  most  agreeable  to  her  friend,  and  her  former 
acquiescence  in  the  future  of  his  planning  remained  undis 
turbed.  Webb  was  more  like  the  brother  she  wished  him 
to  be  than  he  had  been  for  a  long  time.  The  little  flower 
bed  was  an  abiding  reassurance,  and  so  the  present  con 
tained  all  that  she  desired. 

This  was  not  true  of  either  Webb  or  Miss  Hargrove. 
The  former,  however,  did  not  lose  heart.  He  thought  he 
knew  Burt  too  well  to  give  up  hope  yet.  The  latter,  with 
all  her  experience,  was  puzzled.  She  speedily  became  con 
scious  of  the  absence  of  a  certain  warmth  and  genuineness 
in  Burt's  manner  and  words.  The  thermometer  is  not  so 
sensitive  to  heat  and  cold  as  the  intuition  of  a  girl  like  Miss 
Hargrove  to  the  mental  attitude  of  an  admirer,  but  no  one 
could  better  hide  her  thoughts  and  feelings  than  she  when 
once  upon  her  guard. 


AN   OLD    TENEMENT  343 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

AN     OLD     TENEMENT 

THE  few  remaining  days  of  August  passed,  and  Sep 
tember  came,  bringing  little  suggestion  of  autumn 
rains  or  coolness.  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Marvin  had  joined 
them,  and  the  former's  interest  in  every  wild  creature  of  the 
woods  became  infectious.  Alf  and  Fred  were  his  ardent 
disciples,  and  he  rarely  found  an  indifferent  listener  in 
Amy.  The  heat  of  the  day  was  given  up  to  reading  and 
the  fashioning  of  alpenstocks,  and  the  mornings  and  late  af 
ternoons  to  excursions.  In  one  of  these  they  had  sat  down 
to  rest  near  an  immense  decaying  tree  that  was  hollow  in 
parts,  and  full  of  holes  from  the  topmost  shattered  branches 
to  the  ground. 

"That,"  said  the  doctor,  "might  fitly  be  called  an  old 
tenement-house.  You  have  no  idea  how  many  and  various 
creatures  may  have  found  a  home  in  it." 

He  was  immediately  urged  to  enumerate  its  possible  in 
habitants  in  the  past,  present,  and  future. 

The  doctor,  pleased  with  the  conceit  of  regarding  the  de 
caying  tree  in  this  light,  began  with  animation:  "All  three 
of  the  squirrels  of  this  region  have  undoubtedly  dwelt  in  it. 
I  scarcely  need  do  more  than  mention  the  well-known  saucy 
red  or  fox  squirrel,  whose  delight  is  mischief.  By  the  way, 
we  have  at  home  two  tame  robins  that  before  they  could  fly 
were  tumbled  out  of  their  nest  by  one  of  these  ruthless  prac 
tical  jokers.  The  birds  come  in  and  out  of  the  house  like 
members  of  the  family.  The  graceful  gray  squirrel  is 
scarcely  less  familiar  than  the  red  one.  He  makes  a  lively 


344  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

pet,  and  we  have  all  seen  him  turning  the  wheel  attached  to 
his  cage.  The  curious  little  flying-squirrel,  however,  is  a 
stranger  even  to  those  to  whom  he  may  be  a  near  neighbor, 
for  the  reason  that  his  habits  are  chiefly  nocturnal.  He 
ventures  out  occasionally  on  a  cloudy  day,  but  is  shy  and 
retiring.  Thoreau  relates  an  interesting  experience  with 
one.  He  captured  it  in  a  decayed  hemlock  stump,  where 
in  it  had  a  little  nest  of  leaves,  bits  of  bark,  and  pine  nee 
dles.  It  bit  viciously  at  first,  and  uttered  a  few  '  dry  shrieks, ' 
but  he  carried  it  home.  After  it  had  been  in  his  room  a  few 
hours  it  reluctantly  allowed  its  soft  fur  to  be  stroked.  He 
says  it  had  'very  large,  prominent  black  eyes,  which  gave 
it  an  innocent  look.  In  color  it  was  a  chestnut  ash,  inclin 
ing  to  fawn,  slightly  browned,  and  white  beneath.  The  un 
der  edge  of  his  wings  (?)  tinged  yellow,  the  upper  dark,  per 
haps  black.'  He  put  it  into  a  barrel,  and  fed  it  with  an 
apple  and  shag- bark  hickory-nuts.  The  next  morning  he 
carried  it  back  and  placed  it  on  the  stump  from  which  it 
had  been  taken,  and  it  ran  up  a  sapling,  from  which  it 
skimmed  away  to  a  large  maple  nine  feet  distant,  whose 
trunk  it  struck  about  four  feet  from  the  ground.  This 
tree  it  ascended  thirty  feet  on  the  opposite  side  from 
Thoreau,  then,  coming  into  view,  it  eyed  its  quondam 
captor  for  a  moment  or  two,  as  much  as  to  say  'good- by.' 
Then  away  it  went,  first  raising  its  head  as  if  choosing  its 
objective  point.  Thoreau  says  its  progress  is  more  like 
that  of  a  bird  than  he  had  been  led  to  believe  from  natur 
alists'  accounts,  or  than  he  could  have  imagined  possible 
in  a  quadruped.  Its  flight  was  not  a  regular  descent  on  a 
given  line.  It  veered  to  right  and  left,  avoiding  obstruc 
tions,  passed  between  branches  of  trees,  and  flew  horizon 
tally  part  of  the  way,  landing  on  the  ground  at  last,  over 
fifty -one  feet  from  the  foot  of  the  tree  from  which  it  sprang. 
After  its  leap,  however,  it  cannot  renew  its  impetus  in  the 
air,  but  must  alight  and  start  again.  It  appears  to  sail  and 
steer  much  like  a  hawk  when  the  latter  does  not  flap  its 
wings.  The  little  striped  chipmunk,  no  doubt,  has  heaped 


AN   OLD    TENEMENT  345 

up  its  store  of  nuts  in  the  hole  there  that  opens  from  the 
ground  into  the  tree,  and  the  pretty  white-footed  mouse, 
with  its  large  eyes  and  ears,  has  had  its  apartment  in  the 
decayed  recesses  that  exist  in  the  worm-eaten  roots. 

"Opossums  and  raccoons  are  well-known  denizens  of 
trees,  and  both  furnish  famous  country  sports,  especially 
in  the  South.  "Possum  up  de  gum-tree,  cooney  in  de  hol 
low,  '  is  a  line  from  a  negro  ditty  that  touches  a  deep  chord 
in  the  African  heart.  The  former  is  found  not  infrequently 
in  this  region,  but  the  Hudson  seems  to  be  the  eastern 
boundary  of  its  habitat." 

"I  took  two  from  a  tree  in  one  night,"  Burt  re 
marked. 

"The  raccoon's  haunts,  however,  extend  far  to  the  north 
ward,  and  it  is  abundant  in  the  regions  bordering  on  the 
Adirondacks,  though  not  common  in  the  dense  pine  woods 
of  the  interior.  They  are  omnivorous  creatures,  and  often 
rob  nests  of  eggs  and  young  birds,  for  they  are  expert 
climbers.  They  are  fond  of  nuts  and  fruits,  and  especially 
of  corn  when  in  the  condition  of  a  milky  pulp.  Nor  does 
poultry  come  amiss.  They  are  also  eager  fishermen,,  al 
though  they  are  unable  to  pursue  their  prey  under  water 
like  the  otter  and  mink.  They  like  to  play  in  shallows,  and 
leave  no  stone  unturned  in  the  hope  of  finding  a  crawfish 
under  it.  If  fish  have  been  left  in  land-locked  pools,  they 
are  soon  devoured.  'Coon- hunting  by  the  light  of  the 
harvest-moon  has  long  been  one  of  the  most  noted  of 
rural  sports.  During  this  month  the  corn  kernels  are  in 
the  most  toothsome  state  for  the  'coon  bill  of  fare,  and 
there  are  few  fields  near  forests  where  they  will  not  be 
marauding  to-night,  for  they  are  essentially  night  prow 
lers.  A  'coon  hunt  usually  takes  place  near  midnight. 
Men,  with  dogs  trained  to  the  sport,  will  repair  to  a  corn 
field  known  to  be  infested.  The  feasters  are  soon  tracked 
and  treed,  then  shot,  or  else  the  tree  is  felled,  when  such 
a  snarling  fight  ensues  as  creates  no  little  excitement. 
No  matter  how  plucky  a  cur  may  be,  he  finds  his  match 


346  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

in  an  old  'coon,  and  often  carries  the  scars  of  combat  to 
his  dying  day. 

"If  taken  when  young,  raccoons  make  amusing  pets, 
and  become  attached  to  their  masters,  but  they  cannot  be 
allowed  at  large,  for  they  are  as  mischievous  as  monkeys. 
Their  curiosity  is  boundless,  and  they  will  pry  into  every 
thing  within  reach.  Anything,  to  be  beyond  their  reach, 
must  be  under  lock  and  key.  They  use  their  forepaws  as 
hands,  and  will  unlatch  a  door  with  ease,  and  soon  learn 
to  turn  a  knob.  Alf  there  could  not  begin  to  ravage  a 
pantry  like  a  tame  'coon.  They  will  devour  honey,  mo 
lasses,  sugar,  pies,  cake,  bread,  butter,  milk — anything  edi 
ble.  They  will  uncover  preserve-jars  as  if  Mrs.  Leonard 
had  given  them  lessons,  and  with  the  certainty  of  a  toper 
uncork  a  bottle  and  get  drunk  on  its  contents." 

"No  pet  'coons,  Alf,  if  you  please,"  said  his  mother. 

"Raccoons  share  with  Reynard  his  reputation  for  cun 
ning,"  the  doctor  resumed,  "and  deserve  it,  but  they  do  not 
use  this  trait  for  self-preservation.  They  are  not  suspicious 
of  unusual  objects,  and,  unlike  a  fox,  are  easily  trapped. 
They  hibernate  during  the  coldest  part  of  the  winter,  re 
appearing  in  the  latter  part  of  February  or  March.  They 
are  fond  of  little  excursions,  and  usually  travel  in  small 
family  parties,  taking  refuge  in  hollow  trees  about  day 
light.  They  make  their  home  high  up,  and  prefer  a  hollow 
limb  to  the  trunk  of  a  tree.  Some  of  those  half-decayed 
limbs  yonder  would  just  suit  them.  They  have  their  young 
in  April — from  four  to  six — and  these  little  'coons  remain 
with  the  mother  a  year.  While  young  they  are  fair  eating, 
but  grow  tough  and  rank  with  age. 

"Two  other  interesting  animals  may  have  lived  in  that 
tree,  the  least  weasel  and  his  sanguinary  cousin  the  ermine, 
or  large  weasel.  Both  are  brown,  after  the  snow  finally  dis 
appears,  and  both  turn  white  with  the  first  snowstorm." 

"Now  you  are  romancing,  doctor,"  cried  Miss  Hargrove. 

"Yes,"  added  Leonard,  "tell  us  that  you  have  caught 
a  weasel  asleep,  and  we  will,  at  least,  look  credulous;  but 


AN   OLD    TENEMENT  347 

this  turning  white  with  the  first  snow,  and  brown  as  soon 
as  the  snow  is  gone,  is  a  little  off  color." 

"It's  true,  nevertheless,"  maintained  the  doctor,  "al 
though  I  have  seen  no  satisfactory  explanation  of  the 
changes.  They  not  only  make  their  nests  in  hollow  trees, 
but  in  the  sides  of  banks.  Were  it  not  for  its  habit  of  de 
stroying  the  eggs  and  young  of  birds,  the  least  weasel  might 
be  regarded  as  a  wholly  useful  creature,  for  it  devours  in 
numerable  mice,  moles,  shrews,  and  insects,  and  does  not 
attack  larger  animals  or  poultry.  It  is  so  exceedingly  lithe 
and  slender  that  its  prey  has  no  chance  to  escape.  Where 
a  mouse  or  a  mole  can  go  it  can  go  also,  and  if  outrun  in 
the  field,  it  follows  the  scent  of  its  game  like  a  hound,  and 
is  as  relentless  as  fate  in  its  pursuit.  They  are  not  very 
shy,  and  curiosity  speedily  overcomes  their  timidity.  Sit 
down  quietly,  and  they  will  investigate  you  with  intense 
interest,  and  will  even  approach  rather  near  in  order  to  see 
better.  Dr.  Merriam  describes  one  as  standing  bolt-upright, 
and  eying  him,  with  its  head  bent  at  right  angles  to  its 
slender  body.  After  a  brief  retreat  it  made  many  partial 
advances  toward  him,  meanwhile  constantly  sniffing  the  air 
in  his  direction.  I've  no  doubt  Dr.  Merriam  would  have 
liked  to  know  the  weasel's  opinion.  They  have  two  or 
three  litters  a  year,  and  the  nest  is  made  of  dry  leaves  and 
herbage.  The  mother  weasel  will  defend  her  young  at  any 
cost,  and  never  hesitates  to  sacrifice  her  life  in  their  behalf. 
She  will  fasten  herself  by  her  sharp  teeth  to  the  nose  of  a 
dog,  and  teach  him  that  weasel-hunting  has  some  drawbacks. 

"In  its  next  of  kin,  the  ermine,  or  large  weasel,  we  have 
perhaps  the  most  cruel  and  bloodthirsty  animal  in  existence. 
It  is  among  mammals  what  the  butcher-bird  is  among  the 
feathered  tribes — an  assassin,  a  beautiful  fiend.  It  would 
seem  that  nature  reproduces  among  animals  and  plants 
every  phase  of  human  character.  Was  it  Nero  or  Caligula 
who  said,  'Oh,  that  Home  had  but  one  neck,  that  I  might 
sever  it?'  Such  is  the  spirit  that  animates  the  ermine. 
Its  instinct  to  kill  is  so  strong  that,  were  it  possible,  it 


348  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

would  destroy  the  means  of  its  subsistence.  It  would  leave 
none  of  its  varied  prey  alive.  The  lion  and  even  the  man- 
eating  tiger,  when  gorged,  are  inert  and  quiet.  They  kill 
no  more  than  they  want  for  a  meal;  but  the  ermine  will 
attack  a  poultry-yard,  satiate  itself  with  the  brains  of  the 
fowls  or  by  sucking  their  blood,  and  then,  out  of  'pure 
cussedness, '  will  kill  all  the  rest  within  reach.  Fifty  chick 
ens  have  been  destroyed  in  a  night  by  one  of  these  remorse 
less  little  beasts.  It  makes  fearful  ravages  among  grouse, 
rabbits,  and  hares.  It  is  the  mythical  vampire  embodied. 
It  is  not  very  much  larger  than  the  least  weasel,  and  has 
the  same  long,  lithe,  slender  body  and  neck.  A  gray 
squirrel  would  look  bulky  beside  one,  but  in  indomitable 
courage  and  pitiless  ferocity  I  do  not  think  it  has  an  equal. 
Only  a  lack  of  material  or  bodily  fatigue  suspends  its  bloody 
work,  and  its  life  is  one  long  career  of  carnage.  It  has  a 
terrific  set  of  teeth,  which  are  worked  by  most  powerful 
muscles.  Dr.  Coues,  an  eminent  naturalist,  has  given  a 
graphic  account  of  him.  His  words,  as  I  remember  them, 
are  a  true  portrait  of  a  murderer.  'His  forehead  is  low,  and 
nose  sharp;  his  eyes  are  small,  penetrating,  cunning,  and 
glitter  with  an  angry  green  light.  His  fierce  face  surmounts 
a  body  extraordinarily  wiry,  lithe,  and  muscular,  which  ends 
in  a  singularly  long,  slender  neck  that  can  be  liited  at  right 
angles  with  the  body.  When  he  is  looking  around,  his  neck 
stretched  up,  his  flat  triangular  head  bent  forward,  swaying 
to  and  fro,  we  have  the  image  of  a  serpent.' 

"This  is  a  true  picture  of  the  ermine  when  excited  or 
angry;  when  at  rest  and  in  certain  conditions  of  his  fur, 
there  are  few  more  beautiful,  harmless,  innocent-looking 
creatures.  Let  one  of  the  animals  on  which  he  preys  ap 
proach,  however,  and  instantly  he  becomes  a  demon.  In 
the  economy  of  nature  he  often  serves  a  very  useful  pur 
pose.  In  many  regions  field  mice  are  destructive.  The  er 
mine  is  their  deadliest  foe.  A  rat  will  fight  a  man,  if  cor 
nered,  but  it  gives  up  at  once  in  abject  terror  when  con 
fronted  by  the  large  weasel.  This  arch-enemy  has  a  pride 


AN   OLD    TENEMENT  349 

)in  his  hunting,  and  when  taking  up  his  quarters  in  a  barn 
will  collect  in  one  place  all  the  rats  and  mice  he  kills. 
Sometimes  a  hundred  or  more  have  been  found  together  as 
the  result  of  two  or  three  nights'  work.  The  ermine  hunts, 
however,  both  by  day  and  night,  and  climbs  trees  with  great 
facility.  He  is  by  no  means  shy,  and  one  has  been  known 
to  try  to  kill  chickens  in  a  coop  when  a  man  was  standing 
near  him.  Hunger  was  not  his  motive,  for  he  had  destroyed 
dozens  of  fowls  the  night  before.  The  ermine  has  been  used 
successfully  as  a  ferret.  Having  first  filed  the  creature's 
teeth  down,  so  that  it  could  not  kill  the  game,  a  gentleman 
secured  twelve  live  rabbits  in  one  forenoon. 

"But  it's  getting  late,  and  time  we  started  tentward,  and 
yet  I'm  not  through  even  the  list  of  quadrupeds  that  may 
have  dwelt  in  our  old  tenement.  There  are  four  species  of 
bats  to  be  mentioned,  besides  moles  and  shrews,  that  would 
burrow  in  its  roots  if  they  are  as  hollow  as  the  branches. 
There  are  thirteen  species  of  birds,  including  several  very 
interesting  families  of  woodpeckers,  that  would  live  in  a 
tree  like  that,  not  to  speak  of  tree-toads,  salamanders, 
brown  tree-lizards,  insects  and  slugs  innumerable,  and 
black-snakes — " 

"Snakes?"  interrupted  Burt,  incredulously. 

"Yes,  snakes.  I  once  put  my  hand  in  a  hole  for  high- 
holders'  eggs,  and  a  big  black-snake  ran  down  my  back, 
but  not  inside  of  my  coat,  however." 

"Please  say  nothing  more  about  snakes,"  cried  Amy; 
and  she  rose  decisively,  adding,  in  a  low  tone:  "Come, 
Gertrude,  let  us  go.  The  tenants  of  the  old  tree  that  we've 
heard  about  may  be  very  interesting  to  naturalists,  but 
some  of  them  are  no  more  to  my  taste  than  the  people  in 
the  slums  of  London." 

"You  have  made  our  blood  run  cold  with  horrors — an 
agreeable  sensation,  however,  to-day,"  said  Burt,  also  rising. 
"Your  ermine  out-Herods  Herod.  By  the  way,  is  not  the 
fur  of  this  pitiless  beast  worn  by  the  highest  dignitaries  of 
the  legal  profession?"  and  he  hastened  after  the  girls. 


350  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  XLIV 


THE  days  passed,  and  the  novelty  of  their  mountain 
life  began  to  wane  a  little.  There  were  agreeable 
episodes,  as,  for  instance,  visits  from  Mr.  Clifford, 
Mr.  Hargrove,  and  the  Bev.  Mr.  Barkdale,  who  were  enter 
tained  in  royal  style;  but,  after  all,  the  camping  experience 
was  not,  apparently,  fulfilling  the  hopes  of  two  of  the  party. 
Webb's  doubt  and  suspense  had  only  been  increased,  and 
Miss  Hargrove  was  compelled  to  admit  to  herself  that  her 
father's  fears  were  not  groundless.  She  was  the  life  of  the 
party,  and  yet  she  was  not  at  rest.  Even  in  her  dreams 
there  was  a  minor  key  of  trouble  and  dread.  The  past  few 
weeks  were  bringing  a  revelation.  She  had  read  novels  in 
numerable;  she  had  received  tender  confidences  from  friends. 
Love  had  been  declared  to  her,  and  she  had  seen  its  elo 
quent  pleading  in  more  than  one  face;  but  she  acknowl 
edged  that  she  had  never  known  the  meaning  of  the  word 
until,  without  her  volition,  her  own  heart  revealed  to  her 
the  mystery.  Eeason  and  will  might  control  her  action,  but 
she  could  no  more  divert  her  thoughts  from  Burt  Clifford 
than  a  flower  can  turn  from  the  sun.  She  wondered  at  her 
self,  and  was  troubled.  She  had  supposed  that  the  training 
of  society  had  brought  her  perfect  self-possession,  and  she 
had  looked  forward  to  a  match,  when  she  was  ready  for  one, 
in  which  the  pros  and  cons  should  be  weighed  with  diplo 
matic  nicety;  but  now  that  her  heart  was  touched  she 
learned  that  nature  is  supreme,  and  her  whole  being  re 
volted  at  such  a  union  as  she  had  contemplated.  She  saw 


"BUT  HE   RISKED   HIS   LIFE?"  351 

the  basis  of  true  marriage — the  glad  consent  of  body  and 
soul,  and  not  a  calculation.  She  watched  Maggie  closely, 
and  saw  that  her  life  was  happy  and  rounded  out  in  spite  of 
her  many  cares.  It  was  not  such  a  life  as  she  would  choose 
in  its  detail,  and  yet  it  was  infinitely  better  than  that  of 
many  of  her  acquaintances.  Burt  was  no  hero  in  her  eyes, 
but  he  was  immensely  companionable,  and  it  was  a  com 
panion,  not  a  hero,  or  a  man  remote  from  her  life  and 
interests,  that  she  desired.  He  was  refined  and  intelligent, 
if  not  learned;  low,  mean  traits  were  conspicuously  absent; 
but,  above  and  beyond  all,  his  mirthful  blue  eyes,  and  spir 
ited  ways  and  words,  set  all  her  nerves  tingling  with  a  deli 
cious  exhilaration  which  she  could  neither  analyze  nor  con 
trol.  In  brief,  the  time  that  her  father  foresaw  had  come; 
the  man  had  appeared  who  could  do  more  than  amuse; 
her  whole  nature  had  made  its  choice.  She  could  go  back 
to  the  city,  and  still  in  semblance  be  the  beautiful  and 
brilliant  girl  that  she  had  been;  but  she  knew  that  in  all 
the  future  few  waking  hours  would  pass  without  her  thoughts 
reverting  to  that  little  mountain  terrace",  its  gleaming  can 
vas,  its  gypsy-like  fire,  with  a  tall,  lithe  form  often  reclin 
ing  at  her  feet  beside  it. 

Would  the  future  bring  more  than  regretful  memories  ? 
As  time  passed,  she  feared  not. 

As  Burt  grew  conscious  of  himself,  his  pride  was  deeply 
touched.  He  knew  that  he  had  been  greatly  fascinated  by 
Miss  Hargrove,  and,  what  was  worse,  her  power  had  not  de 
clined  after  he  had  awakened  to  his  danger;  but  he  felt  that 
Amy  and  all  the  family  would  despise  him — indeed,  that  he 
would  despise  himself — should  he  so  speedily  transfer  his 
allegiance;  and  under  the  spur  of  this  dread  he  made  espe 
cial,  though  very  unobtrusive,  efforts  to  prove  his  loyalty 
to  Amy.  Therefore  Webb  had  grown  despondent,  and  his 
absences  from  the  camp  were  longer  and  more  frequent. 
He  pleaded  the  work  of  the  farm,  and  the  necessity  of 
coping  with  the  fearful  drought,  so  plausibly  that  Amy 
felt  that  she  could  not  complain,  but,  after  all,  there  was 


352  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

a  low  voice  of  protest  in  her  heart.  "It's  the  old  trouble," 
she  thought.  "The  farm  interests  him  far  more  than  I  ever 
can,  and  even  when  here  his  mind  is  absent." 

Thus  it  may  be  seen  that  Nature,  to  whom  they  had 
gone,  was  not  only  busy  with  the  mountain  and  its  life, 
but  that  her  silent  forces  were  also  at  work  in  those  whose 
unperverted  hearts  were  not  beyond  her  power. 

But  there  are  dark  mysteries  in  Nature,  and  some  of  her 
creations  appear  to  be  visible  and  concentrated  evil.  The 
camping  party  came  very  near  breaking  up  in  a  horrible 
tragedy.  The  day  was  growing  warm,  and  they  were  re 
turning  from  a  rather  extended  excursion,  straggling  along 
a  steep  wood  road  that  was  partially  overgrown  with  bushes. 
Burt  had  been  a  little  more  attentive  to  Miss  Hargrove  than 
usual,  but  was  now  at  Arny's  side  with  his  ready  laugh  and 
jest.  Dr.  Marvin  was  in  the  rear,  peering  about,  as  usual, 
for  some  object  of  interest  to  a  naturalist.  Miss  Hargrove, 
so  far  from  succumbing  to  the  increasing  heat,  was  reluc 
tant  to  return,  and  seemed  possessed  with  what  might  be 
almost  termed  a  nervous  activity.  She  had  been  the  most 
indefatigable  climber  of  the  party,  and  on  their  return  had 
often  diverged  from  the  path  to  gather  a  fern  or  some  other 
sylvan  trifle.  At  one  point  the  ascending  path  formed  an 
angle  with  a  ledge  of  rock  that  made  a  little  platform.  At 
the  further  end  of  this  she  saw  a  flower,  and  she  went  to 
get  it.  A  moment  or  two  later  Burt  and  Amy  heard  her 
scream,  and  the  sound  of  her  voice  seemed  almost  beneath 
them.  Grasping  his  alpenstock  firmly,  Burt  sprang  through 
the  intervening  copsewood,  and  witnessed  a  scene  that  he 
never  forgot,  though  he  paused  not  a  second  in  his  horror. 
Even  as  he  rushed  toward  her  a  huge  rattlesnake  was  send 
ing  forth  the  "long,  loud,  stinging  whir"  which,  as  Dr. 
Holmes  says,  is  "the  dreadful  sound  that  nothing  which 
breathes  can  hear  unmoved. "  Miss  Hargrove  was  looking 
down  upon  it,  stupefied,  paralyzed  with  terror.  Already 
the  reptile  was  coiling  its  thick  body  for  the  deadly  stroke, 
when  Burt's  stock  fell  upon  its  neck  and  laid  it  writhing  at 


"BUT  HE  RISKED   HIS  LIFE?"  353 

the  girl's  feet.  With  a  flying  leap  from  the  rock  above  he 
landed  on  the  venomous  head,  and  crushed  it  with  his  heel. 
He  had  scarcely  time  to  catch  Miss  Hargrove,  when  she 
became  apparently  a  lifeless  burden  in  his  arms. 

Dr.  Marvin  now  reached  him,  and  after  a  glance  at  the. 
scene  exclaimed,  "Great  Grod!  Burt,  she  was  not  bitten?" 

"No;  but  let  us  get  away  from  here.  Where  there's  one 
of  these  devils  there  is  usually  another  not  far  off;"  and 
they  carried  the  unconscious  girl  swiftly  toward  the  camp, 
which  fortunately  was  not  far  away,  all  the  others  following 
with  dread  and  anxiety  in  their  faces. 

Dr.  Marvin's  and  Maggie's  efforts  soon  revived  Miss 
Hargrove,  but  she  had  evidently  received  a  very  severe 
nervous  shock.  When  at  last  Bnrt  was  permitted  to  see 
her,  she  gave  him  her  hand  with  such  a  look  of  gratitude, 
and  something  more,  which  she  could  not  then  disguise,  that 
his  heart  began  to  beat  strangely  fast.  He  was  so  confused 
that  he  could  only  stammer  some  incoherent  words  of  con 
gratulation;  but  he  half -consciously  gave  her  hand  a  pres 
sure  that  left  the  most  delicious  pain  the  young  girl  had 
ever  known.  He  was  deeply  excited,  for  he  had  taken  a 
tremendous  risk  in  springing  upon  a  creature  that  can  strike 
its  crooked  fangs  through  the  thick  leather  of  a  boot,  as  a 
New  York  physician  once  learned  at  the  cost  of  his  life, 
when  he  carelessly  sought  to  rouse  with  his  foot  a  caged 
reptile  of  this  kind. 

Miss  Hargrove  had  ceased  to  be  a  charming  summer 
acquaintance  to  Burt.  She  was  the  woman  at  whose  side 
he  had  stood  in  the  presence  of  death. 

Before  their  midday  repast  was  ready  a  rumble  of  wag 
ons  was  heard  coming  up  the  mountain,  and  Webb  soon 
appeared.  "The  barometer  is  falling  rapidly,"  he  said, 
"and  father  agrees  with  me  that  it  will  be  safer  for  you 
all  to  return  at  once." 

He  found  ready  acquiescence,  for  after  the  event  of  the 
morning  the  ladies  were  in  haste  to  depart.  Lumley,  who 
had  come  up  with  Webb,  was  sent  to  take  the  rattles  from 


354  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

the  snake,  and  the  men  drew  apart,  with  Alf  and  Fred,  to 
discuss  the  adventure,  for  it  was  tacitly  agreed  that  it  would 
be  unwise  to  talk  about  snakes  to  those  whose  nerves  were 
already  unstrung  at  the  thought  of  such  fearful  neighbors. 
Dr.  Marvin  would  have  gone  with  Lumley  had  not  his  wife 
interposed.  As  it  was,  he  had  much  to  say  concerning  the 
habits  and  character  of  the  reptiles,  to  which  the  boys  lis 
tened  with  awe.  "By  the  way,"  he  concluded,  "I  remem 
ber  a  passage  from  that  remarkable  story,  'Elsie  Yenner, ' 
by  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes,  in  which  he  gives  the  most 
vivid  description  of  the  rattlesnake  I  have  ever  seen.  One 
of  his  characters  has  two  of  them  in  a  cage.  '  The  expres 
sion  of  the  creatures,'  he  writes,  'was  watchful,  still,  grave, 
passionless,  fate-like,  suggesting  a  cold  malignity  which 
seemed  to  be  waiting  for  its  opportunity.  Their  awful, 
deep-cut  mouths  were  sternly  closed  over  long,  hollow 
fangs,  which  rested  their  roots  against  the  swollen  poison- 
gland  where  the  venom  had  been  hoarded  up  ever  since  the 
last  stroke  had  emptied  it.  They  never  winked,  for  ophidi 
ans  have  no  movable  eyelids,  but  kept  up  an  awful  fixed 
stare.  Their  eyes  did  not  flash,  but  shone  with  a  cold,  still 
light.  They  were  of  a  pale  golden  color,  horrible  to  look 
into,  with  their  stony  calmness,  their  pitiless  indifference, 
hardly  enlivened  by  the  almost  imperceptible  vertical  slit 
of  the  pupil,  through  which  Death  seemed  to  be  looking 
out,  like  the  archer  behind  the  long,  narrow  loophole  in  a 
blank  turret  wall.'  The  description  is  superb,  and  impressed 
itself  so  deeply  on  my  mind  that  I  can  always  recall  it." 

The  ladies  now  joined  them  at  dinner — the  last  at  their 
rustic  board.  Miss  Hargrove  was  very  pale,  but  she  was  a 
spirited  girl,  and  was  bent  on  proving  that  there  was  noth 
ing  weak  or  hysterical  in  her  nature.  Neither  was  there 
the  flippancy  that  a  shallow  woman  might  have  manifested. 
She  acted  like  a  brave,  well-bred  lady,  whose  innate  refine 
ment  and  good  sense  enabled  her  speedily  to  regain  her 
poise,  and  take  her  natural  place  among  her  friends.  They 
all  tried  to  be  considerate,  and  Amy's  solicitude  did  not 


"BUT  HE   RISKED    HIS   LIFE?"  355 

indicate  the  jealousy  that  her  friend  almost  expected 
to  see. 

Before  they  had  finished  their  repast  an  east  wind  was 
moaning  and  sighing  in  the  trees,  and  a  thin  scud  of  clouds 
overcasting  the  sky.  They  were  soon  in  the  haste  and  bus 
tle  of  departure.  Miss  Hargrove  found  an  opportunity, 
however,  to  draw  Dr.  Marvin  aside,  and  asked,  hesitatingly, 

"If  Burt — if  Mr.  Clifford  had  missed  his  aim  when  he 
sprang  upon  the  snake,  what  would  have  happened  ?' ' 

4 '  You  had  better  not  dwell  on  that  scene  for  the  present, 
Miss  Hargrove." 

"But  I  wish  to  know,"  she  said,  decisively.  "I  am  not 
a  child,  and  I  think  I  have  a  right  to  know." 

44 Well,"  said  the  doctor,  gravely,  "you  are  brave  about 
it,  and  may  as  well  know  the  truth.  Indeed,  a  little  thought 
would  soon  make  it  clear  to  you  that  if  he  had  struck  the 
body  of  the  snake  and  left  its  head  free,  it  would  have  bitten 
him." 

She  drew  a  long  breath,  and  said,  "I  thought  as  much"; 
then  added,  in  a  low  tone,  " Would  it  have  been  death?" 

"Not  necessarily;  but  only  the  most  vigorous  treatment 
could  have  saved  him." 

"But  he  risked  his  life?"  she  persisted. 

"Certainly;  but  a  brave  man  could  scarcely  have  acted 
otherwise.  The  snake  was  at  your  very  feet. ' ' 

4 'Thank  you,"  she  said,  simply,  and  there  was  a  very 
gentle  expression  in  her  eyes. 

Much  of  the  work  of  breaking  up  was  left  to  Lumley, 
and  an  abundant  reward  for  his  labor.  He  had  returned 
with  an  exultant  grin,  but  at  a  sign  from  Dr.  Marvin  con 
cealed  his  trophies.  As  soon  as  he  had  a  chance,  however, 
he  gave  Burt  two  rattles,  one  having  twelve  and  the  other 
fourteen  joints,  thus  proving  the  fear,  that  the  mate  of  the 
snake  first  killed  was  not  far  off,  to  be  well  grounded.  At 
the  foot  of  the  mountain  they  met  Mr.  Hargrove,  driving 
rapidly.  He  explained  that  his  barometer  and  the  indica 
tions  of  a  storm  had  alarmed  him  also,  and  that  he  had 


356  .      NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

come  for  his  daughter  and  Fred.  Nothing  was  said  of  Miss 
Hargrove's  recent  peril  in  the  brief,  cordial  parting.  Her 
eyes  and  Burt's  met  almost  involuntarily  as  she  was  driven 
away,  and  he  was  deeply  perturbed. 

The  face  of  Nature  was  also  clouding  fast,  and  she  was 
sighing  and  moaning  as  if  she,  too,  dreaded  the  immediate 
future. 


SUMMER'S    WEEPING    FAREWELL  357 


CHAPTER  XLV 

SUMMER'S  WEEPING  FAREWELL 

NATURE  was  at  last  awakening  from  her  long,  death 
like  repose  with  an  energy  that  was  startling.     The 
thin  skirmish- line  of  vapor  was  followed  by  cloudy 
squadrons,    and   before  sunset  great  masses  o£   mist  were 
pouring  over  Storm  King,  suggesting  that  the  Atlantic  had 
taken  the  drought  in  hand,  and  meant  to  see  what  it  could 
do.     The  wind  mourned  and  shrieked  about  the  house,  as  if 
trouble,  and  not  relief,  were  coming.     In  spite  of  the  young 
moon,  the  night  grew  intensely  dark.     The  dash  of  rain  was 
expected  every  moment,  but  it  did  not  come. 

Amy  thought  with  a  shudder  of  their  desolate  camping- 
ground.  Time  must  pass  before  pleasant  associations  could 
be  connected  with  it.  The  intense  darkness,  the  rush  and 
roar  of  the  coming  storm,  the  agony,  the  death  that  might 
have  occurred  there,  were  now  uppermost  in  her  mind.  She 
had  found  an  opportunity  to  ask  Webb  questions  similar  to 
those  of  Miss  Hargrove,  and  he  had  given  Burt  full  credit 
for  taking  a  fearful  risk.  A  woman  loves  courage  in  the 
abstract,  and  when  it  is  shown  in  behalf  of  herself  or  those 
whom  she  loves^  he  who  has  manifested  it  became  heroic. 
But  her  homage  troubled  Burt,  who  was  all  at  sea,  uncer 
tain  of  himself,  of  the  future,  of  almost  everything,  but  not 
quite  uncertain  as  to  Miss  Hargrove.  There  was  something 
in  her  look  when  they  first  met  after  their  common  peril 
that  went  straight  to  his  deepest  consciousness.  He  had 
before  received,  with  not  a  little  complacency,  glances  of 
preference,  but  none  like  that,  in  which  a  glimpse  of  feel- 


358  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

ing,  deep  and  strong,  had  been  revealed  in  a  moment  of 
weakness.  The  thought  of  it  moved  him  far  more  pro 
foundly  than  the  remembrance  of  his  danger.  Indeed,  he 
scarcely  thought  of  that,  except  as  it  was  associated  with  a 
girl  who  now  might  have  been  dead  or  dying,  and  who,  by 
a  glance,  had  seemed  to  say,  "What  you  saved  is  yours." 

If  this  were  true  it  was  indeed  a  priceless,  overwhelming 
gift,  and  he  was  terrified  at  himself  as  he  found  how  his 
whole  nature  was  responding.  He  also  knew  that  it  was 
not  in  his  frank,  impetuous  spirit  to  disguise  deep  feeling. 
Should  Miss  Hargrove  control  his  heart,  he  feared  that  all 
would  eventually  know  it,  as  they  had  speedily  discovered 
his  other  little  affairs.  And  little,  indeed,  they  now  seemed 
to  him,  relating  to  girls  as  immature  as  himself.  Some  had 
since  married,  others  were  engaged,  "and  none  ever  lost 
their  appetites,"  he  concluded,  with  a  grim  smile. 

But  he  could  not  thus  dismiss  the  past  so  far  as  Amy 
was  concerned,  the  orphan  girl  in  his  own  home  to  whom 
he  had  promised  fealty.  What  would  be  his  feeling  toward 
another  man  who  had  promised  so  much  and  had  proved 
fickle  ?  What  would  the  inmates  of  his  own  home  say  ? 
What  would  even  his  gentle  mother,  of  whom  he  had  made 
a  confidante,  think  of  him  ?  Would  not  a  look  of  pain,  or, 
even  worse,  of  scorn,  come  into  Amy's  eyes  ?  He  did  love 
her  dearly;  he  respected  her  still  more  as  the  embodiment 
of  truth  and  delicacy.  From  Miss  Hargrove's  manner  he 
knew,  that  Amy  had  never  gossiped  about  him,  as  he  felt  sure 
nine- tenths  of  his  acquaintances  would  have  done.  He  also 
believed  that  she  was  taking  him  at  his  word,  like  the  rest 
of  the  family,  and  that  she  was  looking  forward  to  the  future 
that  he  had  once  so  ardently  desired.  The  past  had  taught 
him  that  she  was  not  one  to  fall  tumultuously  in  love,  but 
rather  that  she  would  let  a  quiet  and  steady  flame  kindle  in 
her  heart,  to  last  through  life.  She  had  proved  herself 
above  hasty  and  resentful  jealousy,  but  she  had,  neverthe 
less,  warned  him  on  the  mountain,  and  had  received  the  re 
newed  manifestations  of  his  loyalty  as  a  matter  of  course. 


SUMMER'S   WEEPING    FAREWELL  359 

Since  his  rescue  of  her  friend  in  the  morning  her  eyes  had 
often  sought  his  with  a  lustre  so  gentle  and  approving  that 
he  felt  guilty,  and  cursed  himself  for  a  fickle  wretch.  Cost 
him  what  it  might,  he  must  be  true  to  her. 

She,  little  divining  his  tragic  mood,  which,  with  the 
whole  force  of  his  will,  he  sought  to  disguise,  gave  him  an 
affectionate  good-night  kiss  as  she  said,  "Dear  Burt,  how 
happily  the  day  has  ended,  after  all! — and  we  know  the 
reason  why." 

"Yes,  Burt,"  added  "Webb;  "no  man  ever  did  a  braver 
thing." 

His  father's  hearty  praise,  and  even  his  mother's  grate 
ful  and  almost  passionate  embrace,  only  added  to  his  deep 
unrest.  As  he  went  to  his  room  he  groaned,  "If  they  only 
knew!" 

After  very  little  and  troubled  sleep  he  awoke  on  the  fol 
lowing  morning  depressed  and  exhausted.  Mental  distress 
was  a  new  experience,  and  he  showed  its  effects;  but  he 
made  light  of  it,  as  the  result  of  over-excitement  and 
fatigue.  He  felt  that  Nature  harmonized  with  his  mood, 
for  he  had  scarcely  ever  looked  upon  a  gloomier  sky.  Yet, 
strange  to  say,  no  rain  had  fallen.  It  seemed  as  if  the  ma 
lign  spell  could  not  be  broken.  The  wind  that  had  been 
whirling  the  dust  in  clouds  all  night  long  grew  fitful,  and 
died  utterly  away,  while  the  parched  earth  and  withered 
herbage  appeared  to  look  at  the  mocking  clouds  in  mute, 
despairing  appeal.  How  could  they  be  so  near,  so  heavy, 
and  yet  no  rain  ?  The  air  was  sultry  and  lifeless.  Fall  had 
come,  but  no  autumn  days  as  yet.  Experienced  Mr.  Clif 
ford  looked  often  at  the  black,  lowering  sky,  and  predicted 
that  a  decided  change  was  at  hand. 

"My  fear  is,"  he  added,  "that  the  drought  may  be  fol 
lowed  by  a  deluge.  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  the  clouds  in 
the  southeast." 

Even  as  he  spoke  a  gleam  of  lightning  shot  athwart 
them,  and  was  soon  followed  by  a  heavy  rumble  of  thun 
der.  It  seemed  that  the  electricity,  or,  rather,  the  concus- 


360  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

sion  of  the  air,  precipitated  the  dense  vapor  into  water,  for 
within  a  few  moments  down  came  the  rain  in  torrents.  As 
the  first  great  drops  struck  the  roads  the  dust  flew  up  as  if 
smitten  by  a  blow,  and  then,  with  scarcely  any  interval,  the 
gutters  and  every  incline  were  full  of  tawny  rills,  that  swelled 
and  grew  with  hoarser  and  deeper  murmurs,  until  they  com 
bined  in  one  continuous  roar  with  the  downfall  from  clouds 
that  seemed  scarcely  able  to  lift  themselves  above  the  tree- 
tops.  The  lightning  was  not  vivid,  but  often  illumined  the 
obscurity  with  a  momentary  dull  red  glow,  and  thunder  mut 
tered  and  growled  in  the  distance  almost  without  cessation. 

The  drought  had  been  depressing.  To  Amy  its  gloomy, 
portentous  ending  was  even  more  so.  The  arid  noonday 
heat  and  glare  of  preceding  days  had  given  place  to  a  twi 
light  so  unnatural  that  it  had  almost  the  awe-inspiring  ef 
fect  of  an  eclipse.  The  hitherto  brazen  sky  seemed  to  have 
become  an  overhanging  reservoir  from  which  poured  a  ver 
tical  cataract.  The  clouds  drooped  so  heavily,  and  were  so 
black,  that  they  gave  an  impression  of  impending  solid 
masses  that  might  fall  at  any  moment  with  crushing  weight. 
Within  an  hour  the  beds  of  streams  long  dry  were  full  and 
overflowing. 

In  spite  of  remonstrances  Webb  put  on  a  rubber  suit, 
and  went  to  look  after  some  little  bridges  on  the  place.  He 
soon  returned,  and  said,  "If  this  keeps  up  until  morning, 
there  will  be  a  dozen  bridges  lacking  in  our  region.  I've 
tried  to  anchor  some  of  our  little  affairs  by  putting  heavy 
stones  on  them,  so  that  the  water  will  pass  over  instead  of 
sweeping  them  away.  It  makes  one  think  that  the  flood 
was  no  myth." 

To  the  general  relief,  the  rain  slackened  in  the  late  af 
ternoon,  and  soon  ceased.  The  threatening  pall  of  clouds 
lifted  a  little,  and  in  rocky  channels  on  the  mountains  the 
dull  gleam  of  rushing  water  could  be  seen.  From  every 
side  its  voice  was  heard,  the  scale  running  up,  from  the 
gurgle  in  the  pipes  connected  with  the  roof,  to  the  roar  of 
the  nearest  large  stream.  The  drought  was  truly  broken. 


SUMMER'S    WEEPING    FAREWELL  361 

As  the  day  advanced  Burt  had  grown  very  restless. 
Amy  watched  him  curiously.  The  long  day  of  imprison 
ment  had  given  time  for  thought,  and  a  review  of  the  past 
novel  and  exciting  experiences.  She  had  not  seen  the 
glances  from  Miss  Hargrove  which  had  suggested  so  much 
to  Burt,  but  she  had  long  since  perceived  that  her  friend 
greatly  enjoyed  his  society.  Had  she  loved  him  she  would 
have  seen  far  more.  If  this  interest  had  been  shown  in 
Webb,  she  would  have  understood  herself  and  Miss  Har 
grove  also  much  better.  Preoccupied  as  she  was  by  her 
sense  of  loss  and  shortcoming  produced  by  Webb's  appar 
ent  absorption  in  pursuits  which  she  did  not  share,  the 
thought  had  repeatedly  occurred  to  her  that  Miss  Har 
grove's  interest  in  Burt  might  be  more  than  passing  and 
friendly.  If  this  were  true,  she  was  sure  the  event  of  the 
preceding  day  must  develop  and  deepen  it  greatly.  And 
now  Burt's  manner,  his  fits  of  absent-mindedness,  during 
which  he  stared  at  vacancy,  awakened  surmises  also. 
"Where  are  his  thoughts?"  she  queried,  and  she  re 
solved  to  find  out. 

"Burt,"  she  said,  arousing  him  from  one  of  the  lapses 
into  deep  thought  which  alternated  with  his  restless  pac 
ings  and  rather  forced  gayety,  "it  has  stopped  raining.  I 
think  you  ought  to  ride  over  and  see  how  Gertrude  is.  I 
feel  real  anxious  about  her." 

His  face  lighted  up  with  eagerness.  "Do  you  truly  think 
I  ought  to  go  ?"  he  asked. 

"Certainly,  and  it  would  be  a  favor  to  me  also,"  she 
added. 

He  looked  at  her  searchingly  for  a  moment,  but  there 
was  nothing  in  her  friendly  expression  to  excite  his  fears. 

"Very  well,"  he  tried  to  say  quietly.  "I'll  go.  A  swift 
gallop  would  do  me  good,  I  believe." 

"Of  course  it  will,  and  so  will  a  walk  brighten  me  up. 
I'm  going  out  to  see  the  brook." 

"Let  me  go  with  you,'1  he  exclaimed,  with  an  eagerness 
too  pronounced. 

Vol.  l       aP 


362  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

"No,  please.  I'd  rather  hear  how  Gertrude  is;"  and  she 
went  to  her  room  to  prepare  for  her  walk,  smiling  a  little 
bitterly  as  she  mused:  "I  now  know  where  his  thoughts 
were.  I  must  be  lacking  indeed.  Not  only  brother  Webb, 
but  also  lover  Burt,  has  grown  weary  of  me.  I  can't  en 
tertain  either  of  them  through  one  rainy  day."  From  her 
window  she  saw  Burt  riding  away  with  a  promptness  that 
brought  again  the  smile  rarely  seen  on  her  fair  features. 
In  her  light  rubber  suit,  she  started  on  her  ramble,  her  face 
almost  as  clouded  as  the  sky.  Another  had  been  on  the 
watch  also,  and  Webb  soon  joined  her,  with  the  question, 
"May  I  not  go  too?" 

"Oh,  I  fear  it  will  take  too  much  of  your  time,"  she 
said,  in  tones  that  were  a  little  constrained. 

He  saw  that  she  was  depressed.  He,  too,  had  been  in 
terpreting  Burt,  and  guessed  his  destination  as  he  galloped 
away.  His  love  for  Amy  was  so  deep  that  in  a  generous 
impulse  of  self-forgetfulness  he  was  sorry  for  her,  and 
sought  to  cheer  her,  and  make  what  poor  amends  he  could 
for  Burt' s  absence,  and  all  that  it  foreboded.  "Since  you 
don't  say  outright  that  I  can't  go,"  he  said,  "I  think  I'll 
venture;"  and  then,  in  a  quiet,  genial  way,  he  began  to 
talk  about  the  storm  and  its  effects.  She  would  not  have 
believed  that  even  remarkable  weather  could  be  made  so  in 
teresting  a  topic  as  it  soon  proved.  Before  long  they  stood 
upon  the  bank,  and  saw  a  dark  flood  rushing  by  where  but 
yesterday  had  trickled  a  little  rill.  Now  it  would  carry 
away  horse  and  rider,  should  they  attempt  to  ford  it,  and 
the  fields  beyond  were  covered  with  water. 

"I  don't  like  these  violent  changes,"  said  Amy.  "Ten 
nyson's  brook,  that  'goes  on  forever,'  is  more  to  my  taste 
than  one  like  this,  that  almost  stops,  and  then  breaks  out 
into  a  passionate,  reckless  torrent. ' ' 

"It's  the  nature  of  this  brook;  you  should  not  blame  it," 
he  answered.  "But  see,  it's  falling  rapidly  already." 

"Oh,  certainly;  nothing  lasts,"  and  she  turned  away 
abruptly. 


SUMMER'S    WEEPING    FAREWELL  363 

"You  are  mistaken,  sister  Amy,"  he  replied,  with  strong, 
quiet  emphasis. 

The  early  twilight  deepened  around  them,  and  gloomy 
night  came  on  apace,  but  before  Amy  re- entered  the  house 
his  unselfish  efforts  were  rewarded.  Burt's  threatened  dis 
loyalty  apparently  had  lost  its  depressing  influence.  Some 
subtile  reassuring  power  had  been  at  work,  and  the  clouds 
passed  from  her  face,  if  not  from  the  sky. 


364  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

FATHER  AND   DAUGHTER 

THAT  sombre  day  would  ever  be  a  memorable  one  to 
Miss  Hargrove.  Nature  seemed  weeping  passion 
ately  over  the  summer  that  had  gone,  with  all  its 
wealth  of  beauty  and  life.  She  knew  that  her  girlhood 
had  gone  with  it.  She  had  cautioned  her  brother  to  say 
nothing  of  her  escape  on  the  previous  day,  for  she  was  too 
unnerved  to  go  over  the  scene  again  that  night,  and  meet 
her  father's  questioning  eyes.  She  wanted  to  be  alone  first 
and  face  the  truth;  and  this  she  had  done  in  no  spirit  of 
weak  self-deception.  The  shadow  of  the  unknown  had 
fallen  upon  her,  and  in  its  cold  gray  light  the  glitter  and 
tinsel  of  the  world  had  faded,  but  unselfish  human  love 
had  grown  more  luminous.  The  imminence  of  death  had 
kindled  rather  than  quenched  it.  It  was  seen  to  be  some 
thing  intrinsically  precious,  something  that  might  survive 
even  the  deadliest  poison. 

Her  father  was  disposed  to  regard  Burt  as  one  who 
looked  upon  life  in  the  light  of  a  pleasure  excursion,  and 
who  might  never  take  it  seriously.  His  laugh  hereafter 
could  never  be  so  light  and  careless  to  her  but  that,  like  a 
minor  key,  would  run  the  thought,  "He  risked  his  life  for 
me;  he  might  have  died  for  me." 

Her  dark,  full  eyes,  the  warm  blood  that  her  thoughts 
brought  into  her  face  even  in  the  solitude  of  her  chamber, 
did  not  belie  her  nature,  which  was  intense,  and  capable  of 
a  strong  and  an  abiding  passion  when  once  kindled. 


FATHER    AND    DAUGHTER  366 

Mr.  Hargrove  had  watched  her  with  the  deepest  solici 
tude  on  her  return,  and  he  felt  rather  than  saw  the  change 
that  had  taken  place  in  his  idol.  She  had  pleaded  fatigue, 
and  retired  early.  In  the  morning  she  was  again  conscious 
of  his  half -questioning  scrutiny,  and  when  he  went  to  his 
study  she  followed,  and  told  him  what  had  occurred.  He 
grew  very  pale,  and  drew  a  long,  deep  breath.  Then,  as  if 
mastered  by  a  strong  impulse,  he  clasped  her  to  his  heart, 
and  said,  in  trembling  tones,  "Oh,  Trurie,  if  I  had  lost 
you!" 

"I  fear  you  would  have  lost  me,  papa,  had  it  not  been 
for  Mr.  Clifford." 

He  paced  the  room  for  a  few  moments  in  agitation,  and 
at  last  stopped  before  her  and  said:  "Perhaps  in  a  sense  I 
am  to  lose  you  after  all.  Has  Mr.  Clifford  spoken?" 

"No,  papa;  he  has  only  risked  his  life  to  save  mine." 

"You  are  very  grateful?" 

"Yes." 

"Do  not  think  I  underestimate  his  act,  Trurie;  but,  be 
lieve  me,  if  he  should  speak  now  or  soon,  you  are  in  no 
condition  to  answer  him." 

She  smiled  incredulously. 

"He  did  what  any  man  would  do  for  a  woman  in  peril. 
He  has  no  right  to  claim  such  an  immense  reward." 

"Before  I  went  to  the  mountains  I  said  I  was  no  longer 
a  child;  but  I  was,  compared  with  what  I  am  now.  It  seems 
to  me  that  feeling,  experience,  more  than  years,  measures 
our  age.  I  am  a  woman  to-day,  one  who  has  been  brought 
so  near  the  future  world  that  I  have  been  taught  how  to 
value  what  may  be  ours  now.  I  have  learned  how  to  value 
you  and  your  unselfish  love  as  I  never  did  before.  Mr. 
Clifford  will  not  speak  very  soon,  if  he  ever  does,  and  I 
have  not  yet  decided  upon  my  answer.  Should  it  be  favor 
able,  rest  assured  more  than  gratitude  will  prompt  me;  and 
also  be  assured  you  would  not  lose  me.  Could  I  not  be  more 
to  you  were  I  happy  than  if  I  went  through  life  with  the 
feeling  that  I  had  missed  my  chance  ?" 


366  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"I  fear  your  mother  would  never  give  her  consent  to  so 
unworldly  a  choice, ' '  he  said,  with  a  troubled  brow. 

"I've  yet  to  be  convinced  that  it  would  be  such  a  choice. 
It's  scarcely  unworldly  to  make  the  most  and  the  best  of  the 
world  one  is  in,  and  mamma  must  permit  me  to  judge  for 
myself,  as  she  chose  for  herself.  I  shall  never  marry  any 
one  but  a  gentleman,  and  one  who  can  give  me  a  home. 
Have  I  not  a  right  to  prefer  a  home  to  an  establishment, 
papa?" 

He  looked  at  her  long  and  searchingly,  and  she  met  his 
scrutiny  with  a  grave  and  gentle  dignity.  "I  suppose  we 
must  submit  to  the  inevitable,"  he  said  at  last. 

"Yes,  papa." 

' '  It  seems  but  the  other  day  that  you  were  a  baby  on  my 
knee,"  he  began,  sadly;  "and  now  you  are  drifting  far 
away." 

"No,  papa,  there  shall  be  no  drifting  whatever.  I  shall 
marry,  if  ever,  one  whom  I  have  learned  to  love  according 
to  Nature's  simple  laws — one  to  whom  I  can  go  without 
effort  or  calculation.  I  could  give  my  heart,  and  be  made 
rich  indeed  by  the  gift.  I  couldn't  invest  it;  and  if  I  did, 
no  one  would  be  more  sorry  than  you  in  the  end. ' ' 

"I  should  indeed  be  more  than  sorry  if  I  ever  saw  you 
unhappy,"  he  said,  after  another  thoughtful  pause;  then 
added,  shaking  his  head,  "I've  seen  those  who  gave  their 
hearts  even  more  disappointed  with  life  than  those  who  took 
counsel  of  prudence. ' ' 

"I  shall  take  counsel  of  prudence,  and  of  you  too, 
papa. ' ' 

"I  think  it  is  as  I  feared — you  have  already  given  your 
heart." 

She  did  not  deny  it.  Before  leaving  him  she  pleaded: 
"Do  not  make  much  of  my  danger  to  mamma.  She  is  ner 
vous,  and  not  over- fond  of  the  country  at  best.  You  know 
that  a  good  many  people  survive  in  the  country,"  she  con 
cluded,  with  a  smile  that  was  so  winning  and  disarming 
that  he  shook  his  head  at  her  as  he  replied: 


FATHER    AND    DAUGHTER  367 

"Well,  Trurie,  I  foresee  what  a  lovingly  obstinate  little 
girl  you  are  likely  to  prove.  I  think  I  may  as  well  tell  you 
first  as  last  that  you  may  count  on  me  in  all  that  is  fairly 
rational.  If,  with  my  years  and  experience,  I  can  be  so 
considerate,  may  I  hope  that  you  will  be  also?" 

Her  answer  was  reassuring,  and  she  went  to  tell  her 
mother.  She  had  been  forestalled.  Fred  was  quite  as  con 
fidential  with  his  mother  as  she  with  her  father,  and  the 
boy  had  been  wild  to  horrify  Mrs.  Hargrove  by  an  account 
of  his  sister's  adventure.  The  injunction  laid  upon  him  had 
been  only  for  the  previous  evening,  and  Gertrude  found  her 
mother  almost  hysterical  over  the  affair,  and  less  inclined 
to  commend  Burt  than  to  blame  him  as  the  one  who  had 
led  her  daughter  into  such  "wild,  harum-scarum  experi 
ences." 

"It's  always  the  way,"  she  exclaimed,  "when  one  goes 
out  of  one's  own  natural  associations  in  life." 

"I've  not  been  out  of  my  natural  associations,"  Gertrude 
answered,  hotly.  "The  Cliffords  are  as  well-bred  and  re 
spectable  as  we  are;"  and  she  went  to  her  room. 

It  was  a  long,  dismal  day  for  her,  but,  as  she  had  said  to 
her  father,  she  would  not  permit  herself  to  drift.  Her  nature 
was  too  positive  for  idle,  sentimental  dreaming.  Feeling 
that  she  was  approaching  one  of  the  crises  of  her  life,  she 
faced  it  resolutely  and  intelligently.  She  went  over  the 
past  weeks  from  the  time  she  had  first  met  Burt  under 
the  Gothic  willow  arch,  and  tried  to  analyze  not  only  the 
power  he  had  over  her,  but  also  the  man  himself.  "I  have 
claimed  to  papa  that  I  am  a  woman,  and  I  should  act  like 
one,"  she  thought.  A  few  things  grew  plain.  Her  interest 
in  Burt  had  been  a  purely  natural  growth,  the  unsought 
result  of  association  with  one  who  had  proved  congenial. 
He  was  so  handsome,  so  companionable,  so  vital  with  spirit 
and  mirthfulness,  that  his  simple  presence  was  exhilarating, 
and  he  had  won  his  influence  like  the  sun  in  spring-time. 
Had  he  the  higher  qualities  of  manhood,  those  that  could 
sustain  her  in  the  inevitable  periods  when  life  would  be  no 


laughing  matter?  Could  he  meet  the  winter  of  life  as  well 
as  the  summer  ?  She  felt  that  she  scarcely  knew  him 
well  enough  to  be  sure  of  this,  but  she  was  still  sufficiently 
young  and  romantic  to  think,  "If  he  should  ever  love  me 
as  I  can  love  him,  I  could  bring  out  the  qualities  that  papa 
fears  are  lacking."  His  courage  seemed  an  earnest  of  all 
that  she  could  desire. 

Amy's  feeling  toward  him,  and  the  question  whether  he 
had  ever  regarded  her  in  another  light  than  that  of  a  sister, 
troubled  her  the  most.  Amy's  assurance  of  implicit  trust, 
and  her  promise  to  deserve  it,  appeared  to  stand  directly 
in  her  path,  and  before  that  stormy  day  closed  she  had 
reached  the  calmness  of  a  fixed  resolution.  "If  Amy  loves 
him,  and  he  has  given  her  reason  to  do  so,  I  shall  not  come 
between  them,  cost  me  what  it  may.  I'll  do  without  happi 
ness  rather  than  snatch  it  from  a  friend  who  has  not  only 
spoken  her  trust,  but  proved  it. ' ' 

Therefore,  although  her  heart  gave  a  great  bound  as  she 
saw  Burt  riding  toward  the  house  in  the  late  afternoon, 
she  went  to  her  father  and  said:  "Mr.  Clifford  is  coming. 
1  wish  you  would  be  present  during  his  call." 

The  young  fellow  was  received  cordially,  and  Mr.  Har 
grove  acknowledged  his  indebtedness  so  feelingly  that  Burt 
flushed  like  a  girl,  and  was  greatly  embarrassed.  He  soon 
recovered  himself,  however,  and  chatted  in  his  usual  easy 
and  spirited  way.  Before  he  left  he  asked,  hesitatingly, 
"Would  you  like  a  souvenir  of  our  little  episode  yester 
day  ?"  and  took  from  his  pocket  the  rattles  of  the  snake  he 
had  killed. 

"It  was  not  a  little  episode,"  Gertrude  replied,  gravely. 
"I  shall  indeed  value  the  gift,  for  it  will  remind  me  that 
I  have  a  friend  who  did  not  count  the  cost  in  trying  to 
help  me." 

Impetuous  words  rose  to  Burt's  lips,  but  he  checked 
them  in  time.  Trembling  for  his  resolutions,  he  soon  took 
his  departure,  and  rode  homeward  in  deeper  disquiet  than 
he  had  ever  known.  He  gave  Amy  her  friend's  messages, 


FATHER    AND    DAUGHTER  369 

and  he  also,  in  spite  of  himself,  afforded  her  a  clearer 
glimpse  of  what  was  passing  in  his  mind  than  she  had  re 
ceived  before.  "I  might  have  learned  to  love  him  in  time, 
I  suppose,"  she  thought,  bitterly,  "but  it's  impossible  now. 
I  shall  build  my  future  on  no  such  uncertain  foundation, 
and  I  shall  punish  him  a  little,  too,  for  it's  time  he  had 
a  lesson." 


370  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 


CHAPTER    XLVII 

DISQUIET   WITHIN   AND   WITHOUT 

AMY  would  scarcely  have  been  human  had  she  felt 
otherwise,  for  it  appeared  that  Burt  was  in  a  fair 
way  to  inflict  a  slight  that  would  touch  the  pride 
of  the  gentlest  nature.  During  her  long  residence  abroad 
Amy  had  in  a  general  and  unthinking  way  adopted  some 
English  ideas  on  the  subject  of  marriage.  Burt  had  at  first 
required  what  was  unnatural  and  repugnant,  and  she  had 
resented  the  demand  that  she  should  pass  from  an  age  and 
a  state  of  feeling  slightly  removed  from  childhood  to  rela 
tions  for  which  she  was  not  ready.  When  he  had  sensibly 
recognized  his  error,  and  had  appeared  content  to  wait  pa 
tiently  and  considerately,  she  had  tacitly  assented  to  his 
hopes  and  those  of  his  parents.  Her  love  and  gratitude 
toward  the  latter  influenced  her  powerfully,  and  she  saw  no 
reason  why  she  should  disappoint  them.  But  she  was  much 
too  high-spirited  a  girl  to  look  with  patience  on  any  waver 
ing  in  Burt.  She  had  not  set  her  heart  on  him  or  sought  to 
be  more  to  him  than  to  a  brother,  and  if  he  wished  for  more 
he  must  win  and  hold  the  right  by  undoubted  loyalty.  The 
fact  that  Amy  had  been  brought  into  the  Clifford  family  as 
a  daughter  and  sister  had  not  cheated  Nature  a  moment, 
as  both  Burt  and  Webb  had  proved.  She  was  not  their 
sister,  and  had  unconsciously  evoked  from  each  of  the  young 
men  a  characteristic  regard.  Burt  must  not  be  judged  too 
harshly.  He  had  to  contend  with  a  temperament  not  un 
common — one  that  renders  its  possessor  highly  susceptible 
to  the  beauty  and  fascination  of  women.  He  was  as  far  re- 


DISQUIET    WITHIN   AND   WITHOUT  371 

moved  from  the  male  flirt  genus  as  sincerity  is  from  false 
hood  ;  but  his  passion  for  Amy  had  been  more  like  a  mani 
festation  of  a  trait  than  a  strong  individual  preference  based 
on  mutual  fitness  and  helpfulness.  Miss  Hargrove  was  more 
truly  his  counterpart.  She  could  supplement  the  weaknesses 
and  defects  of  his  character  more  successfully  than  Amy, 
and  in  a  vague  way  he  felt  this.  With  all  the  former's 
vivacity  there  was  much  reserve  strength  and  magnetism. 
She  was  unusually  gifted  with  will  power,  and  having  once 
gained  an  influence  over  a  person,  she  would  have,  as  agents 
to  maintain  it,  not  only  her  beauty,  but  tact,  keen  insight 
and  a  very  quick  intelligence.  Atlhough  true  herself,  she 
was  by  no  means  unsophisticated,  and  having  once  compre 
hended  Burt's  character,  she  would  have  the  power,  pos 
sessed  by  few  others,  to  make  the  most  of  him. 

Amy  was  nearer  to  nature.  She  would  first  attract  un 
consciously,  like  a  rare  and  beautiful  flower,  and  the  loveli 
ness  and  fragrance  of  her  life  would  be  undying.  Burt  had 
felt  her  charm,  and  responded  most  decisively;  but  the  tran 
quil  regard  of  her  unawakened  heart  had  little  power  to  re 
tain  and  deepen  his  feeling.  She  bloomed  on  at  his  side, 
sweet  to  him,  sweet  to  all.  In  Miss  Hargrove's  dark  eyes 
lurked  a  stronger  spell,  and  he  almost  dared  to  believe  that 
they  had  revealed  to  him  a  love  of  which  he  began  to  think 
Amy  was  not  capable.  On  the  generous  young  fellow,  whose 
intentions  were  good,  this  fact  would  have  very  great  influ 
ence,  and  in  preserving  her  supremacy  Miss  Hargrove  would 
also  be  able  to  employ  not  a  little  art  and  worldly  wisdom. 

The  events  that  are  most  desired  do  not  always  happen, 
however,  and  poor  Burt  felt  that  he  had  involved  himself 
in  complications  of  which  he  saw  no  solution;  while  Amy's 
purpose  to  give  him  "a  lesson"  promised  anything  but  re 
lief.  Her  plan  involved  scarcely  any  change  in  her  manner 
toward  him.  She  would  simply  act  as  if  she  believed  all 
that  he  had  said,  and  take  it  for  granted  that  his  hopes 
for  the  future  were  unchanged.  She  proposed,  however,  to 
maintain  this  attitude  only  long  enough  to  teach  him  that 


372  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

it  is  not  wise,  to  say  the  least,  to  declare  undying  devotion 
too  often  to  different  ladies. 

The  weather  during  the  night  and  early  on  the  following 
morning  was  puzzling.  It  might  be  that  the  storm  was  pass 
ing,  and  that  the  ragged  clouds  which  still  darkened  the  sky 
were  the  rear-guard  or  the  stragglers  that  were  following  the 
sluggish  advance  of  its  main  body;  or  it  might  be  that  there 
was  a  partial  break  in  Nature's  forces,  and  that  heavier 
cloud-masses  were  still  to  come.  Mr.  Clifford  inclined  to 
the  latter  view.  "Old  Storm  King  is  still  shrouded,"  he 
said  at  the  breakfast-table,  "and  this  heavy,  sultry  air  does 
not  indicate  clearing  weather." 

Events  soon  confirmed  his  opinion.  Nature  seemed  bent 
on  repeating  the  programme  of  the  preceding  day,  with  the 
purpose  of  showing  how  much  more  she  could  do  on  the 
same  line  of  action.  There  was  no  steady  wind  from  any 
quarter.  Converging  or  conflicting  currents  in  the  upper 
air  may  have  brought  heavy  clouds  together  in  the  high 
lands  to  the  southwest,  for  although  the  rain  began  to  fall 
heavily,  it  could  not  account  for  the  unprecedented  rise  of 
the  streams.  In  little  over  an  hour  there  was  a  continuous 
roar  of  rushing  water.  Burt,  restless  and  almost  reckless, 
went  out  to  watch  the  floods.  He  soon  returned  to  say  that 
every  bridge  on  the  place  had  gone,  and  that  what  had  been 
dry  and  stony  channels  twenty-four  hours  before  were  now 
filled  with  resistless  torrents. 

Webb  also  put  on  his  rubber  suit,  and  they  went  down 
the  main  street  toward  the  landing.  This  road,  as  it  de 
scended  through  a  deep  valley  to  the  river,  was  bordered 
by  a  stream  that  drained  for  some  miles  the  northwestern 
slope  of  the  mountains.  For  weeks  its  rocky  bed  had  been 
dry;  now  it  was  filled  with  a  river  yellow  as  the  Tiber. 
One  of  the  main  bridges  across  it  was  gone,  and  half  of  the 
road  in  one  place  had  been  scooped  out  and  carried  away  by 
the  furious  waters.  People  were  removing  their  household 
goods  out  into  the  vertical  deluge  lest  they  and  all  they  had 
should  be  swept  into  the  river  by  the  torrent  that  was  above 


DISQUIET    WITHIN   AND   WITHOUT  373 

their  doorsteps.  The  main  steamboat  wharf,  at  which  the 
"Powell"  had  touched  but  a  few  hours  before,  was  scarcely 
passable  with  boats,  so  violent  was  the  current  that  poured 
over  it.  The  rise  had  been  so  sudden  that  people  could 
scarcely  realize  it,  and  strange  incidents  had  occurred.  A 
horse  attached  to  a  wagon  had  been  standing  in  front  of 
a  store.  A  vivid  flash  of  lightning  startled  the  animal,  and 
he  broke  away,  galloped  up  a  side  street  to  the  spot  where 
the  bridge  had  been,  plunged  in,  was  swept  down,  and 
scarcely  more  than  a  minute  had  elapsed  before  he  was  back 
within  a  rod  or  two  of  his  starting-point,  crushed  and  dead. 

Webb  soon  returned.  He  had  noticed  that  Amy's  eyes 
had  followed  him  wistfully,  and  almost  reproachfully,  as 
he  went  out.  Nature's  mood  was  one  to  inspire  awe,  and 
something  akin  to  dread,  in  even  his  own  mind.  She  ap 
peared  to  have  lost  or  to  have  relaxed  her  hold  upon  her 
forces.  It  seemed  that  the  gathered  stores  of  moisture  from 
the  dry,  hot  weeks  of  evaporation  were  being  thrown  reck 
lessly  away,  regardless  of  consequences.  There  was  no  ap 
parent  storm-centre,  passing  steadily  to  one  quarter  of  the 
heavens,  but  on  all  sides  the  lightning  would  leap  from 
the  clouds,  while  mingling  with  the  nearer  and  louder  peals 
was  the  heavy  and  continuous  monotone  from  flashes  below 
the  horizon. 

He  was  glad  he  had  returned,  for  he  found  Amy  pale 
and  nervous  indeed.  Johnnie  had  been  almost  crying  with 
terror,  and  had  tremblingly  asked  her  mother  if  Noah's 
flood  could  come  again. 

"No,"  said  Maggie,  confidently.  "If  there  was  to  be  an 
other  flood,  grandpa  would  have  been  told  to  build  an  ark;" 
and  this  assurance  had  appeared  so  obviously  true  that  the 
child's  fears  were  quieted.  Even  Leonard's  face  was  full  of 
gloom  and  foreboding,  when  the  children  were  not  present, 
as  he  looked  out  on  flooded  fields,  and  from  much  experi 
ence  estimated  the  possible  injury  to  the  farm  and  the  town. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford  were  quiet  and  serene.  They  had 
attained  a  peace  which  was  not  easily  disturbed,  and  the 


374  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

old  gentleman  remarked:  "I  have  seen  a  worse  storm  even 
in  this  vicinity.  You  must  remember  it,  Leonard." 

"But  this  deluge  isn't  over,"  was  the  reply.  "It  seems 
a  tremendous  reaction  from  the  drought,  and  where  it  will 
end  it  is  hard  to  tell,  unless  this  steady  downpouring  slack 
ens  soon. ' ' 

Leonard's  fears  were  not  realized,  however.  The  unusual 
and  tropical  manifestations  of  the  storm  at  last  ceased,  and 
by  night  the  rain  fell  softly  and  gently,  as  if  Nature  were 
penitent  over  her  wild  passion.  The  results  of  it,  however, 
were  left  in  all  directions.  Many  roads  were  impassable; 
scores  of  bridges  were  gone.  The  passengers  from  the  even 
ing  boats  were  landed  on  a  wharf  partially  submerged,  and 
some  were  taken  in  boats  to  a  point  whence  they  could  reach 
their  carriages. 

In  the  elements'  disquiet  Burt  had  found  an  excuse  for 
his  own,  and  he  had  remained  out  much  of  the  day.  He 
had  not  called  on  Miss  Hargrove  again,  but  had  ridden  far 
enough  to  learn  that  the  bridges  in  that  direction  were  safe. 
All  the  family  had  remonstrated  with  him  for  his  exposure, 
and  Amy  asked  him,  laughingly,  if  he  had  been  "sitting  on 
bridges  to  keep  them  from  floating  away. ' ' 

"You  are  growing  ironical,"  he  answered  for  he  was  not 
in  an  amiable  mood,  and  he  retired  early. 


IDLE  WILD  375 


CHAPTER   XL VIII 

IDLEWILD 

IN  the  morning  Nature  appeared  to  have  forgotten  both 
her  passion  and  her  penitence,  and  smiled  serenely  over 
the  havoc  she  had  made,  as  if  it  were  of  no  consequence. 

Amy  said,  "Let  us  take  the  strong  rockaway,  call  for 
Miss  Hargrove,  and  visit  some  of  the  streams";  and  she 
noted  that  Burt's  assent  was  too  undemonstrative  to  be 
natural.  Maggie  decided  to  go  also,  and  take  the  children, 
while  Leonard  proposed  to  devote  the  day  to  repairing  the 
damage  to  the  farm,  his  brothers  promising  to  aid  him  in 
the  afternoon. 

When  at  last  the  party  left  their  carriage  at  one  of  the 
entrances  of  Idlewild,  the  romantic  glen  made  so  famous  by 
the  poet  Willis,  a  stranger  might  have  thought  that  he  had 
never  seen  a  group  more  in  accord  with  the  open,  genial 
sunshine.  This  would  be  true  of  Maggie  and  the  children. 
They  thought  of  that  they  saw,  and  uttered  all  their 
thoughts.  The  solution  of  one  of  life's  deep  problems 
had  come  to  Maggie,  but  not  to  the  others,  and  such  is 
the  nature  of  this  problem  that  its  solution  can  usually  be 
reached  only  by  long  and  hidden  processes.  Not  one  of  the 
four  young  people  was  capable  of  a  deliberately  unfair 
policy;  all,  with  the  exception  of  Amy,  were  conscious 
whither  Nature  was  leading  them,  and  she  had  thoughts 
also  of  which  she  would  not  speak.  There  was  no  lack  of 
truth  in  the  party,  and  yet  circumstances  had  brought  about 
a  larger  degree  of  reticence  than  of  frankness.  To  borrow 


376  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

an  illustration  from  Nature,  who,  after  all,  was  to  blame  for 
what  was  developing  in  each  heart,  a  rapid  growth  of  root 
was  taking  place,  and  the  flower  and  fruit  would  inevitably 
manifest  themselves  in  time.  Miss  Hargrove  naturally  had 
the  best  command  over  herself.  She  had  taken  her  course, 
and  would  abide  by  it,  no  matter  what  she  might  suffer. 
Burt  had  mentally  set  his  teeth,  and  resolved  that  he  wquld 
be  not  only  true  to  Amy,  but  also  his  old  gay  self.  His 
pride  was  now  in  the  ascendant.  Amy,  however,  was  not 
to  be  deceived,  and  her  intuition  made  it  clear  that  he  was 
no  longer  her  old  happy,  contented  comrade.  But  she  was 
too  proud  to  show  that  her  pride  was  wounded,  and  appeared 
to  be  her  former  self.  Webb,  as  usual,  was  quiet,  observ 
ant,  and  not  altogether  hopeless.  And  so  this  merry  party, 
innocent,  notwithstanding  all  their  hidden  thoughts  about 
each  other,  went  down  into  the  glen,  and  saw  the  torrent 
flashing  where  the  sunlight  struck  it  through  the  overhang 
ing  foliage.  Half-way  down  the  ravine  there  was  a  rocky, 
wooded  plateau  from  which  they  had  a  view  of  the  flood 
for  some  distance,  as  it  came  plunging  toward  them  with  a 
force  and  volume  that  appeared  to  threaten  the  solid  foun 
dations  of  the  place  on  which  they  stood.  With  a  roar  of 
baffled  fury  it  sheered  off  to  the  left,  rushed  down  another 
deep  descent,  and  disappeared  from  view.  The  scene  formed 
a  strange  blending  of  peace  and  beauty  with  wild,  fierce 
movement  and  uproar.  From  the  foliage  above  and  around 
them  came  a  soft,  slumberous  sound,  evoked  by  the  balmy 
wind  that  fanned  their  cheeks.  The  ground  and  the  surface 
of  the  torrent  were  flecked  with  waving,  dancing  light  and 
shade,  as  the  sunlight  filtered  through  innumerable  leaves, 
on  some  of  which  a  faint  tinge  of  red  and  gold  was  begin 
ning  to  appear.  Beneath  and  through  all  thundered  a  dark, 
resistless  tide,  fit  emblem  of  lawless  passion  that,  unchanged, 
unrestrained  by  gentle  influences,  pursues  its  downward 
course  reckless  of  consequences.  Although  the  volume  of 
water  passing  beneath  their  feet  was  still  immense,  it  was 
evident  that  it  had  been  very  much  greater.  "I  stood  here 


IDLEWILD  377 

yesterday  afternoon,"  said  Burt,  "and  then  the  sight  was 
truly  grand." 

"  W"hy,  it  was  raining  hard  in  the  afternoon!"  exclaimed 
Miss  Hargrove. 

"Burt  seemed  even  more  perturbed  than  the  weather 
yesterday,"  Amy  remarked,  laughing.  "He  was  out  nearly 
all  the  time.  We  were  alarmed  about  him,  fearing  lest  he 
should  be  washed  away,  dissolved,  or  something." 

"Do  I  seem  utterly  quenched  this  morning?"  he  asked, 
in  a  light  vein,  but  flushing  deeply. 

"Oh,  no,  not  in  the  least,  and  yet  it's  strange,  after  so 
much  cold  water  has  fallen  on  you." 

"One  is  not  quenched  by  such  trifles,"  he  replied,  a  little 
coldly. 

They  were  about  to  turn  away,  when  a  figure  sprang  out 
upon  a  rock,  far  up  the  stream,  in  the  least  accessible  part 
of  the  glen.  They  all  recognized  Mr.  Alvord,  as  he  stood 
with  folded  arms  and  looked  down  on  the  flood  that  rushed 
by  on  either  side  of  him.  He  had  not  seen  them,  and  no 
greeting  was  possible  above  the  sound  of  the  waters.  Webb 
thought  as  he  carried  little  Ned  up  the  steep  path,  "Per 
haps,  in  the  mad  current,  he  sees  the  counterpart  of  some 
period  in  his  past." 

The  bridge  across  the  mouth  of  Idlewild  Brook  was 
gone,  and  they  next  went  to  the  landing.  The  main  wharf 
was  covered  with  large  stones  and  gravel,  the  debris  of  the 
flood  that  had  poured  over  it  from  the  adjacent  stream, 
whose  natural  outlet  had  been  wholly  inadequate.  Then 
they  drove  to  the  wild  and  beautiful  Mountainville  road, 
that  follows  the  Moodna  Creek  for  a  long  distance.  They 
could  not  proceed  very  far,  however,  for  they  soon  came  to 
a  place  where  a  tiny  brook  had  passed  under  a  wooden 
bridge.  Now  there  was  a  great  yawning  chasm.  Not  only 
the  bridge,  but  tons  of  earth  were  gone.  The  Moodna  Creek, 
that  had  almost  ceased  to  flow  in  the  drought,  had  become  a 
tawny  river,  and  rushed  by  them  with  a  sullen  roar.  Hang 
ing  over  the  tide  was  an  old  dead  tree,  on  which  was  perched 


378  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

a  fish-hawk.  Even  while  they  were  looking  at  him,  and 
Burt  was  wishing  for  his  rifle,  the  bird  swooped  downward, 
plunged  into  the  stream  with  a  splash,  and  rose  with  a  fish 
in  his  talons.  It  was  an  admirable  exhibition  of  fearless 
ness  and  power,  and  Burt  admitted  that  such  a  sportsman 
deserved  to  live. 


ECHOES   OF  A   PAST  STORM  379 


CHAPTER  XLIX 

ECHOES    OF    A   PAST    STORM 

ISS  HARGROVE  returned  to  dine  with  them,  and 
as  they  were  lingering  over  the  dessert  and  coffee 
Webb  remarked,  "By  the  way,  I  think  the  poet 
Willis  has  given  an  account  of  a  similar,  or  even  greater, 
deluge  in  this  region. ' '  He  soon  returned  from  the  library, 
and  read  the  following  extracts:  "  'I  do  not  see  in  the  Trib 
une  or  other  daily  papers  any  mention  of  an  event  which 
occupies  a  whole  column  on  the  outside  page  of  the  highest 
mountain  above  West  Point.  An  avalanche  of  earth  and 
stone,  which  has  seamed  from  summit  to  base  the  tall  bluff 
that  abuts  upon  the  Hudson,  forming  a  column  of  news  vis 
ible  for  twenty  miles,  has  reported  a  deluge  we  have  had — 
a  report  a  mile  long,  and  much  broader  than  Broadway. '  ' 

"Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "that's  the  flood  of  which 
I  spoke  yesterday.  It  was  very  local,  but  was  much  worse 
than  the  one  we  have  just  had.  It  occurred  in  August 
of  '53.  I  remember  now  that  Mr.  Willis  wrote  a  good  deal 
about  the  affair  in  his  letters  from  Idlewild.  What  else 
does  he  say?" 

Webb,  selecting  here  and  there,  continued  to  read: 
"  'We  have  had  a  deluge  in  the  valley  immediately  around 
us — a  deluge  which  is  shown  by  the  overthrown  farm  build 
ings,  the  mills,  dams,  and  bridges  swept  away,  the  well-built 
roads  cut  into  chasms,  the  destruction  of  horses  and  cattle, 
and  the  imminent  peril  to  life.  It  occurred  on  the  evening 
of  August  1,  and  a  walk  to-day  down  the  valley  which 
forms  the  thoroughfare  to  Cornwall  Landing  (or,  rather,  a 


380 

scramble  over  its  gulfs  in  the  road,  its  upset  barns  and 
slieds,  its  broken  vehicles,  drift  lumber,  rocks,  and  rub 
bish)  would  impress  a  stranger  like  a  walk  after  the  deluge 
of  Noah. 

"  'The  flood  came  upon  us  with  scarce  half  an  hour's 
notice.  My  venerable  neighbor,  of  eighty  years  of  age, 
who  had  passed  his  life  here,  and  knows  well  the  workings 
of  the  clouds  among  the  mountains,  had  dined  with  us,  but 
hastened  his  departure  to  get  home  before  what  looked  like 
a  shower,  crossing  with  his  feeble  steps  the  stream  whose 
strongest  bridge,  an  hour  after,  was  swept  away.  Another 
of  our  elderly  neighbors  had  a  much  narrower  escape.  The 
sudden  rush  of  water  alarmed  him  for  the  safety  of  an  old 
building  he  used  for  his  stable,  which  stood  upon  the  bank 
of  the  small  stream  usually  scarce  noticeable  as  it  crosses 
the  street  at  the  landing.  He  had  removed  his  horse,  and 
returned  to  unloose  a  favorite  dog,  but  before  he  could  ac 
complish  it  the  building  fell.  The  single  jump  with  which 
he  endeavored  to  clear  himself  of  the  toppling  rafters  threw 
him  into  the  torrent,  and  he  was  swept  headlong  toward  the 
gulf  which  it  had  already  torn  in  the  wharf  on  the  Hudson. 
His  son  and  two  others  plunged  in,  and  succeeded  in  snatch 
ing  him  from  destruction.  Another  citizen  was  riding  home 
ward,  when  the  solid  and  strongly  embanked  road  was  swept 
away  before  and  behind  him,  and  he  had  barely  time  to  un 
hitch  his  horse  and  escape,  leaving  his  carriage  islanded  be 
tween  the  chasms.  A  man  who  was  driving  with  his  wife 
and  child  along  our  own  wall  on  the  river-shore  had  a  yet 
more  fearful  escape:  his  horse  suddenly  forced  to  swim, 
and  his  wagon  set  afloat,  and  carried  so  violently  against  a 
tree  by  the  swollen  current  of  Idlewild  Brook  that  he  and 
his  precious  load  were  thrown  into  the  water,  and  with  diffi 
culty  reached  the  bank  beyond.  A  party  of  children  who 
were  out  huckleberry  ing  on  the  mountain  were  separated 
from  home  by  the  swollen  brook,  and  one  of  them  was 
nearly  drowned  in  vainly  attempting  to  cross  it.  Their 
parents  and  friends  were  out  all  night  in  search  of  them. 


ECHOES   OF  A   PAST  STORM  381 

An  aged  farmer  and  his  wife,  who  had  been  to  Newburgh, 
and  were  returning  with  their  two-horse  wagon  well  laden 
with  goods,  attempted  to  drive  over  a  bridge  as  it  unsettled 
with  the  current,  and  were  precipitated  headlong.  The  old 
man  caught  a  sapling  as  he  went  down  with  the  flood,  the  old 
woman  holding  on  to  his  coat-skirts,  and  so  they  struggled 
until  their  cries  brought  assistance. '  Other  and  similar  in 
cidents  are  given.  One  large  building  was  completely  dis 
embowelled,  and  the  stream  coursed  violently  between  the 
two  halves  of  its  ruins.  'I  was  stopped,'  he  writes  in  an 
other  place,  'as  I  scrambled  along  the  gorge,  by  a  curious 
picture  for  the  common  highway.  The  brick  front  of  the 
basement  of  a  dwelling-house  had  been  torn  off,  and  the 
mistress  of  the  house  was  on  her  hands  and  knees,  with  her 
head  thrust  in  from  a  rear  window,  apparently  getting  her 
first  look  down  into  the  desolated  kitchen  from  which  she 
had  fled  in  the  night.  A  man  stood  in  the  middle  of  the 
floor,  up  to  his  knees  in  water,  looking  round  in  dismay, 
though  he  had  begun  to  pick  up  some  of  the  overset  chairs 
and  utensils.  The  fireplace,  with  its  interrupted  supper  ar 
rangements,  the  dresser,  with  its  plates  and  pans,  its  cups 
and  saucers,  the  closets  and  cupboards,  with  their  various 
stores  and  provisions,  were  all  laid  open  to  the  road  like  a 
sliced  watermelon. ' 

"Well,"  ejaculated  Leonard,  "we  haven't  so  much  cause 
to  complain,  after  hearing  of  an  affair  like  that.  I  do  re 
member  many  of  my  impressions  at  the  time,  now  that  the 
event  is  recalled  so  vividly,  but  have  forgotten  how  so  sud 
den  a  flood  was  accounted  for." 

"Willis  speaks  of  it  on  another  page,"  continued  Webb, 
as  'the  aggregation  of  extensive  masses  of  clouds  into  what 
is  sometimes  called  a  "waterspout,"  by  the  meeting  of 
winds  upon  the  converging  edge  of  our  bowl  of  highlands. 
The  storm  for  a  whole  country  was  thus  concentrated.'  I 
think  there  must  have  been  yesterday  a  far  heavier  fall  of 
water  on  the  mountains  a  little  to  the  southeast  than  we  had 
here.  Perhaps  the  truer  explanation  in  both  instances  would 


382  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

be  that  the  winds  brought  heavy  clouds  together  or  against 
the  mountains  in  such  a  way  as  to  induce  an  enormous  pre 
cipitation  of  vapor  into  rain.  Mr.  Willis  indicates  by  the 
following  passage  the  suddenness  of  the  flood  he  describes: 
'My  first  intimation  that  there  was  anything  uncommon  in 
the  brook  was  the  sight  of  a  gentleman  in  a  boat  towing  a 
cow  across  the  meadow  under  our  library  window — a  green 
glade  seldom  or  never  flooded.  The  roar  from  the  foaming 
precipices  -in  the  glen  had  been  heard  by  us  all,  but  was 
thought  to  be  thunder.'  Then  he  tells  how  he  and  his 
daughter  put  on  their  rubber  suits  and  hastened  into  the 
glen.  'The  chasm,'  he  writes,  'in  which  the  brook,  in  any 
freshet  I  had  heretofore  seen,  was  still  only  a  deep-down 
stream,  now  seemed  too  small  for  the  torrent.  Those  giddy 
precipices  on  which  the  sky  seems  to  lean  as  you  stand  be 
low  were  the  foam-lashed  sides  of  a  full  and  mighty  river. 
The  spray  broke  through  the  tops  of  the  full-grown  willows 
and  lindens.  As  the  waves  plunged  against  the  cliffs  they 
parted,  and  disclosed  the  trunks  and  torn  branches  of  the 
large  trees  they  had  overwhelmed  and  were  bearing  away, 
and  the  earth-colored  flood,  in  the  wider  places,  was  a 
struggling  mass  of  planks,  timber,  rocks,  and  roots — tokens 
of  a  tumultuous  ruin  above,  to  which  the  thunder-shower 
pouring  around  us  gave  but  a  feeble  clew.  A  heavy-limbed 
willow,  which  overhung  a  rock  on  which  I  had  often  sat  to 
vratch  the  freshets  of  spring,  rose  up  while  we  looked  at  it, 
and  with  a  surging  heave,  as  if  lifted  by  an  earthquake, 
toppled  back,  and  was  swept  rushingly  away. '  ' 

"How  I  would  have  liked  to  see  it!"  exclaimed  Miss 
Hargrove. 

"I  can  see  it,"  said  Amy,  leaning  back,  and  closing  her 
eyes.  "I  can  see  it  all  too  vividly.  I  don't  like  nature  in 
such  moods."  Then  she  took  up  the  volume,  and  began 
turning  the  leaves,  and  said:  "I've  never  seen  this  book 
before.  Why,  it's  all  about  this  region,  and  written  before 
I  was  born.  Oh  dear,  here  is  another  chapter  of  horrors!" 
and  she  read:  "  'Close  to  our  gate,  at  the  door  of  one  of  our 


ECHOES    OF   A    PAST   STORM  383 

nearest  and  most  valued  neighbors — a  lovely  girl  was  yes 
terday  struck  dead  by  lightning.  A  friend  who  stood  with 
her  at  the  moment  was  a  greater  sufferer,  in  being  pros 
trated  by  the  same  flash,  and  paralyzed  from  the  waist 
downward —her  life  spared  at  the  cost  of  tortures  inex 
pressible.'  " 

Webb  reached  out  his  hand  to  take  the  book  from  her, 
but  she  sprang  aloof,  and  with  dilating  eyes  read  further: 
1 '  '  Miss  Gilmour  had  been  chatting  with  a  handsome  boy 
admirer,  but  left  him  to  take  aside  a  confidential  friend 
that  she  might  read  her  a  letter.  It  was  from  her  mother, 
a  widow  with  this  only  daughter.  They  passed  out  of  the 
gate,  crossed  the  road  to  be  out  of  hearing,  and  stood  under 
the  telegraph  wire,  when  the  letter  was  opened.  Her  lips 
were  scarce  parted  to  read  when  the  flash  came — an  arrow 
of  intense  light — '  Oh,  horrible!  horrible!  How  can  you 
blame  me  for  fear  in  a  thunderstorm?" 

"Amy,"  said  Webb,  now  quietly  taking  the  book, 
"your  dread  at  such  times  is  constitutional.  If  there 
were  need,  you  could  face  danger  as  well  as  any  of  us. 
You  would  have  all  a  woman's  fortitude,  and  that  sur 
passes  ours.  Take  the  world  over,  the  danger  from  light 
ning  is  exceedingly  slight,  and  it's  not  the  danger  that 
makes  you  tremble,  but  your  nervous  organization." 

"You  interpret  me  kindly,"  she  said,  "but  I  don't  see 
why  nature  is  so  full  of  horrible  things.  If  Gertrude  had 
been  bitten  by  the  snake,  she  might  have  fared  even  worse 
than  the  poor  girl  of  whom  I  have  read." 

Miss  Hargrove  could  not  forbear  a  swift,  grateful  glance 
at  Burt. 

"I  do  not  think  nature  is  full  of  horrible  things,"  Webb 
resumed.  "Remember  how  many  showers  have  cooled  the 
air  and  made  the  earth  beautiful  and  fruitful  in  this  region. 
In  no  other  instance  that  I  know  anything  about  has  life 
been  destroyed  in  our  vicinity.  There  is  indeed  a  side  to 
nature  that  is  full  of  mystery — the  old  dark  mystery  of  evil; 
but  I  should  rather  say  it  is  full  of  all  that  is  beautiful  and 


384  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

helpful.  At  least  this  seems  true  of  our  region.  I  have 
never  seen  so  much  beauty  in  all  my  life  as  during  the  past 
year,  simply  because  I  am  forming  the  habit  of  looking  for 
it." 

"Why,  Webb,"  exclaimed  Amy,  laughing,  "I  thought 
your  mind  was  concentrating  on  crops  and  subjects  as  deep 
as  the  ocean." 

"It  would  take  all  the  salt  of  the  ocean  to  save  that  re 
mark,"  he  replied;  but  he  beat  a  rather  hasty  retreat. 

"Well,  Amy,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "you  may  now  dismiss 
your  fears.  I  imagine  that  in  our  tropical  storm  summer 
has  passed;  and  with  it  thunder-showers  and  sudden  floods. 
We  may  now  look  forward  to  two  months  of  almost  ideal 
weather,  with  now  and  then  a  day  that  will  make  a  book 
and  a  wood  fire  all  the  more  alluring. ' ' 

The  old  gentleman's  words  proved  true.  The  days 
passed  like  bright  smiles,  in  which,  however,  lurked  the 
pensiveness  of  autumn.  Slowly  failing  maples  glowed  first 
with  the  hectic  flush  of  disease,  but  gradually  warmer  hues 
stole  into  the  face  of  Nature,  for  it  is  the  dying  of  the  leaves 
that  causes  the  changes  of  color  in  the  foliage. 


IMPULSES    OF    THE   HEART  885 


CHAPTER  L 

IMPULSES   OF   THE   HEART 

THE  fall  season  brought  increased  and  varied  labors  on 
the  farm  and  in  the  garden.  As  soon  as  the  ground 
was  dry  after  the  tremendous  storm,  and  its  ravages 
had  been  repaired  as  far  as  possible,  the  plows  were  busy 
preparing  for  winter  grain,  turnips  were  thinned  oat,  winter 
cabbages  and  cauliflowers  cultivated,  and  the  succulent  and 
now  rapidly  growing  celery  earthed  up.  The  fields  of  corn 
were  watched,  and  as  fast  as  the  kernels  within  the  husks — 
now  becoming  golden- hued — were  glazed,  the  stalks  were 
cut  and  tied  in  compact  shocks.  The  sooner  maize  is  cut, 
after  it  has  sufficiently  matured,  the  better,  for  the  leaves 
make  more  nutritious  fodder  if  cured  or  dried  while  still 
full  of  sap.  From  some  fields  the  shocks  were  wholly  re 
moved,  that  the  land  might  be  plowed  and  seeded  with 
grain  and  grass.  Buckwheat,  used  merely  as  a  green  and 
scavenger  crop,  was  plowed  under  as  it  came  into  blossom, 
and  that  which  was  sown  to  mature  was  cut  in  the  early 
morning,  while  the  dew  was  still  upon  it,  for  in  the  heat  of 
the  day  the  grain  shells  easily,  and  is  lost.  After  drying 
for  a  few  days  in  compact  little  heaps  it  was  ready  for  the 
threshing-machine.  Then  the  black,  angular  kernels — 
promises  of  many  winter  breakfasts — were  spread  to  dry 
on  the  barn  floor,  for  if  thrown  into  heaps  or  bins  at  this 
early  stage,  they  heat  badly. 

The  Cliffords  had  long  since  learned  that  the  large  late 
peaches,  that  mature  after  the  Southern  crop  is  out  of  the 
market,  are  the  most  profitable,  and  almost  every  day 
Abram  took  to  the  landing  a  load  of  baskets  full  of  downy 

Vol.  1       aQ 


386  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

beauties.  An  orange  grove,  with  its  deep  green  foliage  and 
golden  fruit,  is  beautiful  indeed,  but  an  orchard  laden  with 
Crawford's  Late,  in  their  best  development,  can  well  sustain 
comparison.  Sharing  the  honors  and  attention  given  to  the 
peaches  were  the  Bartlett  and  other  early  pears.  These  lat 
ter  fruits  were  treated  in  much  the  same  way  as  the  former. 
The  trees  were  picked  over  every  few  days,  and  the  largest 
and  ripest  specimens  taken,  their  maturity  being  indicated 
by  the  readiness  of  the  stem  to  part  from  the  spray  when 
the  pear  is  lifted.  The  greener  and  imperfect  fruit  was  left 
to  develop,  and  the  trees,  relieved  of  much  of  their  burden, 
were  able  to  concentrate  their  forces  on  what  was  left.  The 
earlier  red  grapes,  including  the  Delaware,  Brighton,  and 
Agawam,  not  only  furnished  the  table  abundantly,  but  also 
a  large  surplus  for  market.  Indeed,  there  was  high  and 
dainty  feasting  at  the  Cliffords'  every  day — fruit  every 
where,  hanging  temptingly  within  reach,  with  its  delicate 
bloom  untouched,  untarnished. 

The  storm  and  the  seasonable  rains  that  followed  soon 
restored  its  fulness  and  beauty  to  Nature's  withered  face. 
The  drought  had  brought  to  vegetation  partial  rest  and  ex 
tension  of  root  growth,  and  now,  with  the  abundance  of 
moisture,  there  was  almost  a  spring-like  revival.  The 
grass  sprang  up  afresh,  meadows  and  fields  grew  green, 
and  annual  weeds,  from  seeds  that  had  matured  in  August, 
appeared  by  the  million. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  them,"  Webb  remarked.  "Before 
they  can  mature  any  seed  the  frost  will  put  an  end  to  their 
career  of  mischief,  and  there  will  be  so  many  seeds  less  to 
grow  next  spring. ' ' 

"There'll  be  plenty  left,"  Leonard  replied. 

The  Cliffords,  by  their  provident  system  of  culture,  had 
prepared  for  droughts  as  mariners  do  for  storms,  and  hence 
they  bad  not  suffered  so  greatly  as  others ;  but  busy  as  they 
were  kept  by  the  autumnal  bounty  of  Nature,  and  the  re 
wards  of  their  own  industry,  they  found  time  for  recreation, 
and  thoughts  far  removed  from  the  material  questions  of 


IMPULSES   OF   THE   HEART  387 

profit  and  loss.  The  drama  of  life  went  on,  and  feeling, 
conviction,  and  love  matured  like  the  ripening  fruits,  al 
though  not  so  openly.  As  soon  as  his  duties  permitted, 
Burt  took  a  rather  abrupt  departure  for  a  hunting  expedi 
tion  in  the  northern  woods,  and  a  day  or  two  later  Amy 
received  a  note  from  Miss  Hargrove,  saying  that  she  had 
accepted  an  invitation  to  join  a  yachting  party. 

"Oh,  Webb!"  she  exclaimed,  "I  wish  you  were  not  so 
awfully  busy  all  the  time.  Here  I  am,  thrown  wholly  on 
your  tender  mercies,  and  I  am  neither  a  crop  nor  a  scientific 
subject." 

He  gave  her  little  reason  for  complaint.  The  increasing 
coolness  and  exhilarating  vitality  of  the  air  made  not  only 
labor  agreeable,  but  out-door  sports  delightful,  and  he  found 
time  for  an  occasional  gallop,  drive,  or  ramble  along  roads 
and  lanes  lined  with  golden-rod  and  purple  asters;  and  these 
recreations  had  no  other  drawback  than  the  uncertainty  and 
anxiety  within  his  heart.  The  season  left  nothing  to  be  de 
sired,  but  the  outer  world,  even  in  its  perfection,  is  only 
an  accompaniment  of  human  life,  which  is  often  in  sad  dis 
cord  with  it. 

Nature,  however,  is  a  harmony  of  many  and  varied 
strains,  and  the  unhappy  are  always  conscious  of  a  deep 
minor  key  even  on  the  brightest  days.  To  Alf  and  Johnnie 
the  fall  .brought  unalloyed  joy  and  promise;  to  those  who 
were  older,  something  akin  to  melancholy,  which  deepened 
with  the  autumn  of  their  life;  while  to  Mr.  Alvord  every 
breeze  was  a  sigh,  every  rising  wind  a  mournful  requiem, 
and  every  trace  of  change  a  reminder  that  his  spring  and 
summer  had  passed  forever,  leaving  only  a  harvest  of  bitter 
memories.  Far  different  was  the  dreamy  pensiveness  with 
which  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Clifford  looked  back  upon  their  van 
ished  youth  and  maturity.  At  the  same  time  they  felt  within 
themselves  the  beginnings  of  an  immortal  youth.  Although 
it  was  late  autumn  with  them,  not  memory,  but  hope,  was 
in  the  ascendant. 

During  damp  or  chilly  days,  and  on  the  evenings  of  late 


388  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

September,  the  fire  burned  cheerily  on  the  hearth  of  their 
Franklin  stove.  The  old  gentleman  had  a  curious  fancy  in 
regard  to  his  fire- wood.  He  did  not  want  the  straight, 
shapely  sticks  from  their  mountain  land,  but  gnarled  and 
crooked  billets,  cut  from  trees  about  the  place  that  had 
required  pruning  and  removal. 

"I  have  associations  with  such  fuel,"  he  said,  "and  can 
usually  recall  the  trees — many  of  which  I  planted — from 
which  it  came;  and  as  I  watch  it  burn  and  turn  into  coals, 
I  see  pictures  of  what  happened  many  years  ago." 

One  evening  he  threw  on  the  fire  a  worm-eaten  billet,  the 
sound  part  of  which  was  as  red  as  mahogany;  then  drew 
Amy  to  him  and  said,  "I  once  sat  with  your  father  under 
the  apple-tree  of  which  that  piece  of  wood  was  a  part,  and 
I  can  see  him  now  as  he  then  looked." 

She  sat  down  beside  him,  and  said,  softly,  "Please  tell 
me  how  he  looked." 

In  simple  words  the  old  man  portrayed  the  autumn  day, 
the  fruit  as  golden  as  the  sunshine,  a  strong,  hopeful  man, 
who  had  passed  away  in  a  far- distant  land,  but  who  was  still 
a  living  presence  to  both.  Amy  looked  at  the  picture  in  the 
flickering  blaze  until  her  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears.  But 
such  drops  fall  on  the  heart  like  rain  and  dew,  producing 
richer  and  more  beautiful  life. 

The  pomp  and  glory  of  October  were  ushered  in  by  days 
of  such  surpassing  balminess  and  brightness  that  it  was  felt 
to  be  a  sin  to  remain  indoors.  The  grapes  had  attained  their 
deepest  purple,  and  the  apples  in  the  orchard  vied  with  the 
brilliant  and  varied  hues  of  the  fast- turning  foliage.  The 
nights  were  soft,  warm,  and  resonant  with  the  unchecked 
piping  of  insects.  From  every  tree  and  shrub  the  katydids 
contradicted  one  another  with  increasing  emphasis,  as  if 
conscious  that  the  time  was  at  hand  when  the  last  word 
must  be  spoken.  The  stars  glimmered  near  through  a  deli 
cate  haze,  and  in  the  western  sky  the  pale  crescent  of  the 
moon  was  so  inclined  that  the  old  Indian  might  have  hung 
upon  it  his  powder-horn. 


IMPULSES   OF   THE   HEART  389 

On  such  an  evening  the  young  people  from  the  Cliffords' 
had  gathered  on  Mr.  Hargrove's  piazza,  and  -Amy  and  Ger 
trude  were  looking  at  the  new  moon  with  silver  in  their 
pockets,  each  making  her  silent  wish.  What  were  those 
wishes  ?  Amy  had  to  think  before  deciding  what  she  wanted 
most,  but  not  Miss  Hargrove.  Her  face  has  grown  thinner 
and  paler  during  the  last  few  weeks;  there  is  unwonted 
brilliancy  in  her  eyes  to-night,  but  her  expression  is  reso 
lute.  Her  wish  and  her  hope  were  at  variance.  Times  of 
weakness,  if  such  they  could  be  called,  would  come,  but 
they  should  not  appear  in  Burt's  or  Amy's  presence. 

The  former  had  just  returned,  apparently  gayer  than 
ever.  His  face  was  bronzed  from  his  out- door  life  in  the 
Adirondacks.  Its  expression  was  also  resolute,  and  his  eyes 
turned  oftenest  toward  Amy,  with  a  determined  loyalty.  As 
has  been  said,  not  long  after  the  experiences  following  the 
storm,  he  had  yielded  to  his  impulse  to  go  away  and  recover 
his  poise.  He  felt  that  if  he  continued  to  see  Miss  Hargrove 
frequently  he  might  reveal  a  weakness  which  would  lead  not 
only  Amy  to  despise  him,  but  also  Miss  Hargrove,  should 
she  become  aware  of  the  past.  As  he  often  took  such  out 
ings,  the  family,  with  the  exception  of  Webb  and  Amy, 
thought  nothing  of  it.  His  brother  and  the  girl  he  had 
wooed  so  passionately  now  understood  him  well  enough  to 
surmise  his  motive,  and  Amy  had  thought,  "It  will  do  him 
good  to  go  away  and  think  awhile,  but  it  will  make  no 
difference;  this  new  affair  must  run  its  course  also. "  And 
yet  her  heart  began  to  relent  toward  him  after  a  sisterly 
fashion.  She  wondered  if  Miss  Hargrove  did  regard  him  as 
other  than  a  friend  to  whom  she  owed  very  much.  If  so, 
she  smiled  at  the  idea  of  standing  in  the  way  of  their 
mutual  happiness.  She  had  endured  his  absence  with  ex 
ceeding  tranquillity,  for  Webb  had  given  her  far  more  of 
his  society,  and  she,  Alf,  and  Johnnie  often  went  out  and 
aided  him  in  gathering  the  fruit.  For  some  reason  these 
light  tasks  had  been  more  replete  with  quiet  enjoyment 
than  deliberate  pleasure-seeking. 


890  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

Burt  had  been  at  pains  to  take,  in  Amy's  presence,  a 
most  genial  and  friendly  leave  of  Miss  Hargrove,  but  there 
was  no  trace  of  the  lover  in  his  manner.  His  smiles  and 
cordial  words  had  chilled  her  heart,  and  had  strengthened 
the  fear  that  in  some  way  he  was  bound  to  Amy.  She  knew 
that  she  had  fascinated  and  perhaps  touched  him  deeply, 
but  imagined  she  saw  indications  of  an  allegiance  that  gave 
little  hope  for  the  future.  If  he  felt  as  she  did,  and  were 
free,  he  would  not  have  gone  away;  and  when  he  had  gone, 
time  grew  leaden-footed.  Absence  is  the  touchstone,  and 
by  its  test  she  knew  that  her  father  was  right,  and  that  she, 
to  whom  so  much  love  had  been  given  unrequited,  had  be 
stowed  hers  apparently  in  like  manner.  Then  had  come  an 
invitation  to  join  a  yachting  party  to  Fortress  Monroe,  and 
she  had  eagerly  accepted.  With  the  half-reckless  impulse 
of  pride,  she  had  resolved  to  throw  away  the  dream  that 
had  promised  so  much,  and  yet  had  ended  in  such  bitter 
and  barren  reality.  She  would  forget  it  all  in  one  brief 
whirl  of  gayety;  and  she  had  been  the  brilliant  life  of  the 
party.  But  how  often  her  laugh  had  ended  in  a  stifled  sigh! 
How  often  her  heart  told  her,  "This  is  not  happiness,  and 
never  can  be  again!"  Her  brief  experience  of  what  is  deep 
and  genuine  in  life  taught  her  that  she  had  outgrown  cer 
tain  pleasures  of  the  past,  as  a  child  outgrows  its  toys,  and 
she  had  returned  thoroughly  convinced  that  her  remedy  was 
not  in  the  dissipations  of  society. 

The  evening  after  her  return  Burt,  with  Webb  and  Amy, 
had  come  to  call,  and  as  she  looked  upon  him  again  she 
asked  herself,  in  sadness,  "Is  there  any  remedy?"  She 
was  not  one  to  give  her  heart  in  a  half-way  manner. 

It  seemed  to  her  that  he  had  been  absent  for  years,  and 
had  grown  indefinitely  remote.  Never  before  had  she  gained 
the  impression  so  strongly  that  he  was  in  some  way  bound 
to  Amy,  and  would  abide  by  his  choice.  If  this  were  true, 
she  felt  that  the  sooner  she  left  the  vicinity  the  better,  and 
even  while  she  chatted  lightly  and  genially  she  was  plan 
ning  to  induce  her  father  to  return  to  the  city  at  an  early 


IMPULSES   OF   THE   HEART 

date.  Before  parting,  Amy  spoke  of  her  pleasure  at  the  re 
turn  of  her  friend,  who,  she  said,  had  been  greatly  missed, 
adding:  "Now  we  shall  make  up  for  lost  time.  The  roads 
are  in  fine  condition  for  horseback  exercise,  nutting  expe 
ditions  will  soon  be  in  order,  and  we  have  a  bee-hunt  on 
the  programme. ' ' 

"I  congratulate  you  on  your  prospects,"  said  Miss  Har 
grove.  "I  wish  I  could  share  in  all  your  fun,  but  fear  I 
shall  soon  return  to  the  city. ' ' 

Burt  felt  a  sudden  chill  at  these  words,  and  a  shadow 
from  them  fell  across  his  face.  Webb  saw  their  effect,  and 
he  at  once  entered  on  a  rather  new  role  for  him.  "Then  we 
must  make  the  most  of  the  time  before  you  go,"  he  began. 
"I  propose  we  take  advantage  of  this  weather  and  drive 
over  to  West  Point,  and  lunch  at  Fort  Putnam." 

"Why,  Webb,  what  a  burst  of  genius!"  Amy  exclaimed. 
"Nothing  could  be  more  delightful.  Let  us  go  to-morrow 
for  we  can't  count  on  such  weather  long." 

Miss  Hargrove  hesitated.  The  temptation  was  indeed 
strong,  but  she  felt  it  would  not  be  wise  to  yield,  and 
began,  hesitatingly,  "I  fear  my  engagements — "  At  this 
moment  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  Burt's  face  in  a  mirror, 
and  saw  the  look  of  disappointment  which  he  could  not  dis 
guise.  "If  I  return  to  the  city  soon,"  she  resumed,  "I 
ought  to  be  at  my  preparations." 

"Why,  Gertrude,"  said  Amy,  "I  almost  feel  as  if  you 
did  not  wish  to  go.  Can't  you  spare  one  day?  I  thought 
you  were  to  remain  in  the  country  till  November.  I  have 
been  planning  so  much  that  we  could  do  together!" 

"Surely,  Miss  Hargrove,"  added  Burt,  with  a  slight 
tremor  in  his  voice,  "you  cannot  nip  Webb's  genius  in  the 
very  bud.  Such  an  expedition  as  he  proposes  is  an  in 
spiration." 

"But  you  can  do  without  me,"  she  replied,  smiling  on 
him  bewilderingly. 

It  was  a  light  arrow,  but  its  aim  was  true.  Never  before 
had  he  so  felt  the  power  of  her  beauty,  the  almost  irresist- 


392  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

ible  spell  of  her  fascination.  While  her  lips  were  smiling, 
there  was  an  expression  in  her  dark  eyes  that  made  her 
words,  so  simple  and  natural  in  themselves,  a  searching 
question,  and  he  could  not  forbear  saying,  earnestly,  "We 
should  all  enjoy  the  excursion  far  more  if  you  went 
with  us." 

"Truly,  Miss  Hargrove,"  said  Webb,  "I  shall  be 
quenched  if  you  decline,  and  feel  that  I  have  none  of  the 
talent  for  which  I  was  beginning  to  gain  a  little  credit." 

"I  cannot  resist  such  an  appeal  as  that,  Mr.  Clifford," 
she  said,  laughingly: 

"This  is  perfectly  splendid!"  cried  Amy.  "I  anticipate 
a  marvellous  day  to-morrow.  Bring  Fred  also,  and  let  us 
all  vie  with  each  other  in  encouraging  Webb. ' ' 

"Has  that  quiet  Webb  any  scheme  in  his  mind?"  Miss 
Hargrove  thought,  after  they  had  gone.  "I  wish  that  to 
morrow  might  indeed  be  'a  marvellous  day'  for  us  all." 

"  Can  I  do  without  her?"  was  poor  Burt's  query.  An 
affirmative  answer  was  slow  in  coming,  though  he  thought 
long  and  late. 


WEBB'S   FATEFUL    EXPEDITION  393 


M 


CHAPTER  LI 

WEBB'S  FATEFUL  EXPEDITION 

E.  HARGROVE  had  welcomed  the  invitation  that 
took  his  daughter  among  some  of  her  former  com 
panions,  hoping  that  a  return  to  brilliant  fashion 
able  life  would  prove  to  her  that  she  could  not  give  it  up. 
It  was  his  wish  that  she  should  marry  a  wealthy  man  of  the 
city.  His  wife  did  not  dream  of  any  other  future  for  her 
handsome  child,  and  she  looked  forward  with  no  little 
complacency  to  the  ordering  of  a  new  and  elegant  estab 
lishment. 

At  the  dinner-table  Gertrude  had  given  a  vivacious  ac 
count  of  her  yachting  experience,  and  all  had  appeared  to 
promise  well;  but  when  she  went  to  the  library  to  kiss  her 
father  good-night,  he  looked  at  her  inquiringly,  and  said, 
"You  enjoyed  every  moment,  I  suppose?" 

She  shook  her  head  sadly,  and,  after  a  moment,  said: 
"I  fear  I've  grown  rather  tired  of  that  kind  of  thing.  We 
made  much  effort  to  enjoy  ourselves.  Is  there  not  a  happi 
ness  which  comes  without  so  much  effort?" 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  said,  simply. 

"Perhaps  you  need  not  be.  Suppose  I  find  more  pleas 
ure  in  staying  with  you  than  in  rushing  around?" 

"That  would  not  last.     That  is  contrary  to  nature." 

"I  think  it  would  be  less  contrary  to  my  nature  than 
forced  gayety  among  people  I  care  nothing  about." 

He  smiled  at  her  fondly,  but  admitted  to  himself  that 
absence  had  confirmed  the  impressions  of  the  summer,  in- 


394  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

stead  of  dissipating  them,  and  that  if  Burt  became  her  suitor 
he  would  be  accepted. 

"When  she  looked  out  on  the  morning  of  the  excursion 
to  Fort  Putnam  it  was  so  radiant  with  light  and  beauty  that 
hope  sprang  up  within  her  heart.  Disappointment  that  might 
last  through  life  could  not  come  on  a  day  like  this.  Silvery 
mists  ascended  from  the  river  down  among  the  Highlands. 
The  lawn  and  many  of  the  fields  were  as  green  as  they  had 
been  in  June,  and  no  every  side  were  trees  like  immense 
bouquets,  so  rich  and  varied  was  their  coloring.  There 
was  a  dewy  freshness  in  the  air,  a  genial  warmth  in  the 
sunshine,  a  spring-like  blue  in  the  sky;  and  in  these  was  no 
suggestion  that  the  November  of  her  life  was  near.  "And 
yet  it  may  be,"  she  thought.  "I  must  soon  face  my  fate, 
and  I  must  be  true  to  Amy. " 

Mrs.  Hargrove  regarded  with  discontent  the  prospect  of 
another  long  mountain  expedition;  but  Fred,  her  idol,  was 
wild  for  it,  and  in  a  day  or  two  he  must  return  to  school  in 
the  city,  from  which,  at  his  earnest  plea,  he  had  been  absent 
too  long  already;  so  she  smiled  her  farewell  at  last  upon  the 
fateful  excursion. 

He,  with  his  sister,  was  soon  at  the  Cliffords',  and  found 
the  rockaway — the  strong  old  carryall  with  which  Gertrude 
already  had  tender  associations — in  readiness.  Maggie  had 
agreed  to  chaperon  the  party,  little  Ned  having  been  easily 
bribed  to  remain  with  his  father. 

Miss  Hargrove  had  looked  wistfully  at  the  Clifford  man 
sion  as  she  drew  near  to  it.  Never  had  it  appeared  to  her 
more  home-like,  with  its  embowering  trees  and  laden  or 
chards.  The  bright  hues  of  the  foliage  suggested  the  hopes 
that  centred  there:  the  ocean,  as  she  had  seen  it — cold  and 
gray  under  a  clouded  sky — was  emblematic  of  life  with  no 
fulfilment  of  those  hopes.  And  when  Mr.  Clifford  met  her 
at  the  door,  and  took  her  in  to  see  the  invalid,  who  greeted 
her  almost  as  affectionately  as  she  would  have  welcomed 
Amy  after  absence,  Miss  Hargrove  knew  in  the  depths  of 
her  heart  how  easily  she  could  be  at  home  there. 


WEBB'S   FATEFUL    EXPEDITION  395 

Never  did  a  pleasure-party  start  under  brighter  auspices. 
Even  Mrs.  Clifford  came  out,  oil  her  husband's  arm,  to  wave 
them  a  farewell. 

The  young  men  had  their  alpenstocks,  for  it  was  their 
intention  to  walk  up  the  steep  places.  Webb  was  about  to 
take  Alf  and  Johnnie  on  the  front  seat  with  him,  when  Amy 
exclaimed:  "I'm  going  to  drive,  Mr.  Webb.  Johnnie  can 
sit  between  us,  and  keep  me  company  when  you  are  walk 
ing.  You  needn't  think  that  because  you  are  the  brilliant 
author  of  this  expedition  you  are  going  to  have  everything 
your  own  way." 

Indeed,  not  a  little  guile  lurked  behind  her  laughing 
eyes,  which  ever  kept  Webb  in  perplexity— though  he 
looked  into  them  so  often — as  to  whether  they  were  blue 
or  gray.  Miss  Hargrove  demurely  took  her  seat  with  Mag 
gie,  and  Burt  had  the  two  boys  with  him.  Fred  had  brought 
his  gun,  and  was  vigilant  for  game  now  that  the ' '  law  was  up. ' ' 

They  soon  reached  the  foot  of  the  mountain,  and  there 
was  a  general  unloading,  for  at  first  every  one  wished  to 
walk.  Maggie  good-naturedly  climbed  around  to  the  front 
seat  and  took  the  reins,  remarking  that  she  would  soon  have 
plenty  of  company  again. 

Burt  had  not  recognized  Amy's  tactics,  nor  did  he  at 
once  second  them,  even  unconsciously.  His  long  rumina 
tions  had  led  to  the  only  possible  conclusion — the  words  he 
had  spoken  must  be  made  good.  Pride  and  honor  permitted 
no  other  course.  Therefore  he  proposed  to-day  to  be  ubi 
quitous,  and  as  gallant  to  Maggie  as  to  the  younger  ladies. 
When  Miss  Hargrove  returned  to  the  city  he  would  quietly 
prove  his  loyalty.  Never  before  had  he  appeared  in  such 
spirits;  never  so  inexorably  resolute.  He  recalled  Amy's 
incredulous  laugh  at  his  protestation  of  constancy,  and  felt 
that  he  could  never  look  her  in  the  face  if  he  faltered.  It 
was  known  that  Miss  Hargrove  had  received  much  atten 
tion,  and  her  interest  in  him  would  be  likely  to  disappear  at 
once  should  she  learn  of  his  declaration  of  undying  devo 
tion  to  another  but  a  few  months  before.  He  anathema- 


896  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

thized  himself,  but  determined  that  his  weakness  should  re 
main  unknown.  It  was  evident  that  Amy  bad  been  a  little 
jealous,  but  probably  that  she  did  not  yet  care  enough  for 
him  to  be  very  sensitive  on  the  subject.  This  made  no  dif 
ference,  however.  He  had  pledged  himself  to  wait  until  she 
did  care.  Therefore  he  sedulously  maintained  his  mask. 
Miss  Hargrove  should  be  made  to  believe  that  she  had 
added  much  to  the  pleasure  of  the  excursion,  and  there 
he  would  stop.  And  Burt  on  his  mettle  was  no  bungler. 
The  test  would  come  in  his  staying  powers. 

Webb,  however,  was  quietly  serene.  He  had  not 
watched  and  thought  so  long  in  vain.  He  had  seen 
Burt's  expression  the  evening  before,  and  knew  that  a 
wakeful  night  had  followed.  His  own  feeling  had  taught 
him  a  clairvoyance  which  enabled  him  to  divine  not  a  little 
of  what  was  passing  in  his  brother's  mind  and  that  of  Miss 
Hargrove.  Amy  troubled  him  more  than  they.  Her  frank, 
sisterly  affection  was  not  love,  and  might  never  become  love. 

One  of  the  objects  of  the  expedition  was  to  obtain  an 
abundant  supply  of  autumn  leaves  and  ferns  for  pressing. 
"I  intend  to  make  the  old  house  look  like  a  bower  this  win 
ter,"  Amy  remarked. 

"That  would  be  impossible  with  our  city  home,"  Miss 
Hargrove  said,  "and  mamma  would  not  hear  of  such  an  at 
tempt.  But  I  can  do  as  I  please  in  my  own  room,  and  shall 
gather  my  country  souvenirs  to-day." 

The  idea  of  decorating  her  apartment  with  feathery  ferns 
and  bright-hued  leaves  took  a  strong  hold  upon  her  fancy, 
for  she  hoped  that  Burt  would  aid  her  in  making  the  collec 
tion.  Nor  was  she  disappointed,  for  Amy  said: 

"Burt,  I  have  gathered  and  pressed  nearly  all  the  ferns 
I  need  already.  You  know  the  shady  nooks  where  the 
most  delicate  ones  grow,  and  you  can  help  Gertrude  make 
as  good  a  collection  as  mine.  You'll  help  too,  won't  you, 
Webb?"  added  the  innocent  little  schemer,  who  saw  that 
Burt  was  looking  at  her  rather  keenly. 

So  they  wound  up  the  mountain,  making  long  stops  here 


WEBB'S   FATEFUL   EXPEDITION  397 

and  there  to  gather  sylvan  trophies  and  to  note  the  fine 
views.  Amy's  manner  was  so  cordial  and  natural  that 
Burt's  suspicions  had  been  allayed,  and  the  young  fellow, 
who  could  do  nothing  by  halves,  was  soon  deeply  absorbed 
in  making  a  superb  collection  for  Miss  Hargrove,  and  she 
felt  that,  whatever  happened,  she  was  being  enriched  by 
everything  he  obtained  for  her.  Amy  had  brought  a  great 
many  newspapers  folded  together  so  that  leaves  could  be 
placed  between  the  pages,  and  Webb  soon  noted  that  his 
offerings  were  kept  separate  from  those  of  Burt.  The  lat 
ter  tried  to  be  impartial  in  his  labors  in  behalf  of  the  two 
girls,  bringing  Amy  bright-hued  leaves  instead  of  ferns, 
but  did  not  wholly  succeed,  and  sometimes  he  found  him 
self  alone  with  Miss  Hargrove  as  they  pursued  their  search 
a  short  distance  on  some  diverging  and  shaded  path.  On 
one  of  these  occasions  he  said,  "I  like  to  think  how  beauti 
ful  you  will  make  your  room  this  winter." 

"I  like  to  think  of  it  too,"  she  replied.  "I  shall  feel 
that  I  have  a  part  of  my  pleasant  summer  always  present. ' ' 

"Has  it  been  a  pleasant  summer?" 

"Yes,  the  pleasantest  I  ever  enjoyed." 

"I  should  think  you  would  find  it  exceedingly  dull  after 
such  brilliant  experiences  as  that  of  your  yachting  excur 
sion." 

"Do  you  find  to-day  exceedingly  dull?" 

"But  I  am  used  to  the  quiet  country,  and  a  day  like  this 
is  the  exception." 

"I  do  not  imagine  you  have  ever  lived  a  tame  life." 

"Isn't  that  about  the  same  as  calling  me  wild?" 

"There's  no  harm  in  beginning  a  little  in  that  way.  Time 
sobers  one  fast  enough." 

"You  are  so  favored  that  I  can  scarcely  imagine  life 
bringing  sobering  experiences  to  you  very  soon." 

"Indeed?  Have  you  forgotten  what  occurred  on  these 
very  mountains,  at  no  great  distance  ?  I  assure  you  I  never 
forget  it;"  and  her  eyes  were  eloquent  as  she  turned  them 
upon  him. 


398  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"One  does  not  forget  the  most  fortunate  event  of  one's 
life.  Since  you  were  to  meet  that  danger,  I  would  not  have 
missed  being  near  for  the  world.  I  had  even  a  narrower 
escape,  as  you  know,  on  this  mountain.  The  spot  where 
Webb  found  me  is  scarcely  more  than  a  mile  away. ' ' 

She  looked  at  him  very  wistfully,  and  her  face  grew 
pale,  but  she  only  said,  "I  don't  think  either  of  us  can 
forget  the  Highlands." 

"I  shall  never  forget  that  little  path,"  he  said,  in  a  low 
tone,  and  he  looked  back  at  it  lingeringly  as  they  came  out 
into  the  road  and  approached  the  rest  of  the  party. 

"Have  you  lost  anything,  Burt?"  cried  Amy,  laughing. 

"No,  but  I've  found  something.  See  this  superb  bunch 
of  maiden  hair.  That  spot  should  be  marked  for  future  sup 
plies.  Miss  Hargrove  will  share  with  you,  for  you  can't 
have  anything  so  fine  as  this. ' ' 

"Yes,  indeed  I  have,  and  I  shall  call  you  and  Webb  to 
account  if  you  do  not  to-day  make  Gertrude  fare  as  well." 

Both  Miss  Hargrove  and  Burt  were  bewildered.  There 
was  lurking  mischief  in  Amy's  eyes  when  she  first  spoke, 
and  yet  she  used  her  influence  to  keep  Burt  in  her  friend's 
society.  Her  spirits  seemed  too  exuberant  to  be  natural, 
and  Miss  Hargrove,  who  was  an  adept  at  hiding  her  feel 
ings  under  a  mask  of  gayety,  surmised  that  Amy's  feminine 
instincts  had  taught  her  to  employ  the  same  tactics.  Con 
scious  of  their  secret,  Miss  Hargrove  and  Burt  both  thought, 
"Perhaps  it  is  her  purpose  to  throw  us  together  as  far  as 
possible,  and  learn  the  truth." 

Amy  had  a  kinder  purpose  than  they  imagined.  She 
wanted  no  more  of  Burt's  forced  allegiance,  and  was  much 
too  good-natured  to  permit  mere  pique  to  cause  unhappiness 
to  others.  "Let  Gertrude  win  him  if  she  cares  for  him," 
was  her  thought,  "and  if  she  can't  hold  him  his  case  is 
hopeless.111  She  could  not  resist  the  temptation,  however, 
to  tease  Burt  a  little. 

But  he  gave  her  slight  chance  for  the  next  few  hours. 
Her  mirthful  question  and  the  glance  accompanying  it  had 


WEBB'S   FATEFUL   EXPEDITION  399 

put  him  on  his  guard  again,  and  he  at  once  became  the  gay 
cavalier-general  he  had  resolved  on  being  throughout  the 
day. 

They  made  a  long  pause  to  enjoy  the  view  looking  out 
upon  Constitution  Island,  West  Point,  the  southern  moun 
tains,  and  the  winding  river,  dotted  here  and  there  with 
sails,  and  with  steamers,  seemingly  held  motionless  by  their 
widely  separated  train  of  canal  boats. 

"What  mountain  is  this  that  we  are  now  to  descend?'1 
Miss  Hargrove  asked. 

"Cro'  Nest,"  Burt  replied.  "It's  the  first  high  moun 
tain  that  abuts  on  the  river  above  West  Point,  you  will  re 
member." 

' '  Oh,  yes,  I  remember.  I  have  a  song  relating  to  it,  and 
will  give  you  a  verse;"  and  she  sang: 

"  'Where  Hudson's  waves  o'er  silvery  sands 

Wind  through  the  hills  afar, 
And  Cro'  Nest  like  a  monarch  stands, 
Crowned  with  a  single  star.'  " 

After  a  round  of  applause  had  subsided,  Burt,  whose 
eyes  had  been  more  demonstrative  than  his  hands,  said, 
"That's  by  Morris.  We  can  see  from  Fort  Putnam  his  old 
home  under  Mount  Taurus." 

"I  know.  He  is  the  poet  who  entreated  tne  woodman  to 
'spare  that  tree.'  ' 

"Which  the  woodman  will  never  do,"  Webb  remarked, 
"unless  compelled  by  law;  nor  even  then,  I  fear." 

"Oh,  Webb!"  cried  Amy,  "with  what  a  thump  you 
drop  into  prose!" 

"I  also  advise  an  immediate  descent  of  the  mountain  if 
we  are  to  have  any  time  at  Fort  Putnam,"  he  added.  "I'll 
walk  on." 

They  were  soon  winding  down  the  S's  by  which  the  road 
overcame  the  steep  declivity.  On  reaching  a  plateau,  be 
fore  the  final  descent,  they  came  across  a  wretched  hovel, 
gray  and  storm-beaten,  with  scarcely  strength  to  stand. 


400  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

Bags  took  the  place  of  broken  glass  in  the  windows.  A 
pig  was  rooting  near  the  doorstep,  on  which  stood  a  slat 
ternly  woman,  regarding  the  party  with  dull  curiosity. 

"Talk  about  the  elevating  influence  of  mountain  scen 
ery,"  said  Miss  Hargrove;  "there's  a  commentary  on  the 
theory. ' ' 

"The  theory's  correct,"  persisted  Burt.  "Their  height 
above  tide-water  and  the  amount  of  bad  whiskey  they  con 
sume  keep  our  mountaineers  elevated  most  of  the  time. ' ' 

"Does  Lumley  live  in  a  place  like  that?"  Miss  Hargrove 
asked. 

"He  did — in  a  worse  one,  if  possible,"  Webb  replied  for 
Amy,  who  hesitated.  "But  you  should  see  how  it  is 
changed.  He  now  has  a  good  vegetable  garden  fenced 
in,  a  rustic  porch  covered  with  American  ivy,  and — would 
you  believe  it? — an  actual  flower-bed.  Within  the  hut 
there  are  two  pictures  on  the  wall,  and  the  baby  creeps  on 
a  carpeted  floor.  Lumley  says  Amy  is  making  a  man  of 
him." 

"You  forget  to  mention  how  much  you  Have  helped 
me,"  Amy  added. 

1 '  Come,  let  us  break  up  this  mutual  admiration  society, ' ' 
said  Burt.  "I'm  ready  for  lunch  already,  and  Fort  Putnam 
is  miles  away. ' ' 

The  road  from  the  foot  of  the  mountain  descends  grad 
ually  through  wild,  beautiful  scenery  to  West  Point.  Cro' 
Nest  rises  abruptly  on  the  left,  and  there  is  a  wooded  valley 
on  the  right,  with  mountains  beyond.  The  trees  overhung 
the  road  with  a  canopy  of  gold,  emerald,  and  crimson  foli 
age,  and  the  sunlight  came  to  the  excursionists  as  through 
stained-glass  windows.  Taking  a  side  street  at  the  back  of 
the  military  post,  they  soon  reached  a  point  over  which 
frowned  the  ruins  of  the  fort,  and  here  they  left  their 
horses.  After  a  brief  climb  to  the  northward  they  entered 
on  an  old  road,  grass-grown  and  leaf-carpeted,  and  soon 
passed  through  the  gaping  sally-port,  on  either  side  of 
which  cone-like  cedars  stood  as  sentinels.  Within  the  fort 


WEBB'S   FATEFUL    EXPEDITION  401 

Nature  had  been  busy  for  a  century  softening  and  obliterat 
ing  the  work  of  man.  Cedar  trees — some  of  which  were 
dying  from  age — grew  everywhere,  even  on  the  crumbling 
ramparts.  Except  where  ledges  of  the  native  rock  cropped 
out,  the  ground  was  covered  with  a  thick  sward.  Near  the 
centre  of  the  inclosure  is  the  rocky  basin.  In  it  bubbles  the 
spring  at  which  the  more  temperate  of  the  ancient  garrison 
may  have  softened  the  asperities  of  their  New  England  rum. 

The  most  extensive  ruins  are  seen  by  turning  sharply  to 
the  left  from  the  sally-port.  Here,  yawning  like  caverns, 
their  entrances  partially  choked  by  the  de'bris,  are  six  case 
mates,  or  vaults.  They  were  built  of  brick,  covered  with 
stone,  and  are  eighteen  feet  deep  and  twelve  wide,  with  an 
arched  roof  twelve  feet  high.  On  the  level  rampart  above 
them  were  long,  withered  grass,  the  wild  dwarf-rose,  and 
waving  golden-rod.  The  outer  walls,  massy  and  crum 
bling,  or  half  torn  away  by  vandal  hands,  were  built  in 
angles,  according  to  the  engineering  science  of  the  Bevolu- 
tion,  except  on  the  west,  where  the  high  ramparts  surmount 
a  mural  perpendicular  precipice  fifty  feet  in  height.  In 
land,  across  the  valley,  the  mountains  were  seen,  rising  like 
rounded  billows  in  every  direction,  while  from  the  north, 
east,  and  south  the  windings  of  the  Hudson  were  visible  for 
fifteen  miles. 

All  but  Amy  had  visited  the  spot  before,  and  Burt  ex 
plored  the  place  with  her  while  the  rest  prepared  for  lunch. 
She  had  asked  Gertrude  to  accompany  them,  but  the  latter 
had  sought  refuge  with  Maggie,  and  at  her  side  she  proposed 
to  remain.  She  scarcely  dared  trust  herself  with  Burt,  and 
as  the  day  advanced  he  certainly  permitted  his  eyes  to  ex 
press  an  interest  that  promised  ill  for  his  inexorable  purpose 
of  constancy. 

It  had  become  clear  to  Miss  Hargrove  that  he  was  re 
strained  by  something  that  had  occurred  between  him  and 
Amy,  and  both  her  pride  and  her  sense  of  truth  to  her 
friend  decided  her  to  withdraw  as  far  as  possible  from  his 
society,  and  to  return  to  the  city. 


402  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

She  and  Burt  vied  with  each  other  in  gayety  at  lunch. 
When  it  was  over  they  all  grouped  themselves  in  the  shade 
of  a  clump  of  cedars,  and  looked  away  upon  the  wide  pros 
pect,  Webb  pointing  out  objects  of  past  and  present  interest. 
Alf  and  Fred  speedily  grew  restless  and  started  off  with  the 
gun,  Johnnie's  head  sank  into  her  mother's  lap,  Miss  Har 
grove  and  Burt  grew  quiet  and  preoccupied,  their  eyes  look 
ing  off  into  vacancy.  Webb  was  saying,  "By  one  who  had 
imagination  how  much  more  could  be  seen  from  this  point 
than  meets  the  eye!  There,  on  the  plain  below  us,  would 
rise  the  magnificent  rustic  colonnade  two  hundred  and 
twenty  feet  long  and  eighty  feet  wide,  beneath  which 
Washington  gave  the  great  banquet  in  honor  of  the  birth 
of  the  Dauphin  of  France,  and  on  the  evening  of  the  same 
day  these  hills  blazed  with  musketry  and  rolled  back  the 
thunder  of  cannon  with  which  the  festivities  of  the  evening 
were  begun.  Think  of  the  'Father  of  his  Country'  being 
there  in  flesh  and  blood,  just  as  we  are  here!  In  the  lan 
guage  of  an  old  military  journal,  'He  carried  down  a  dance 
of  twenty  couple  on  the  green  grass,  with  a  graceful  and 
dignified  air,  having  Mrs.  Knox  for  his  partner.'  In  al 
most  a  direct  line  across  the  river  you  can  see  the  Beverly 
Eobinson  house,  from  which  Arnold  carried  on  his  corre 
spondence  with  Andre*.  You  can  look  into  the  window  of 
the  room  to  which,  after  hearing  of  the  capture  of  Andre", 
he  hastened  from  the  breakfast- table.  To  this  upper  room 
he  immediately  summoned  his  wife,  who  had  been  the  beau 
tiful  Margaret  Shippen,  you  remember,  and  told  her  of  his 
awful  peril,  then  rushed  away,  leaving  the  poor,  terror- 
stricken  woman  unconscious  on  the  floor.  Would  you  not 
like  to  look  through  the  glass  at  the  house  where  the  tragedy 
occurred,  Miss  Hargrove?" 

At  the  sound  of  her  name  the  young  girl  started  visibly, 
and  Webb  saw  that  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes;  but  she 
complied  witho.ut  a  word,  and  he  so  directed  the  gla%^  that 
it  covered  the  historic  mansion. 

"How  full  of  sensibility  she  is!"  thought  innocent  Webb, 


WEBB'S   FATEFUL    EXPEDITION  403 

taking  her  quickly  suppressed  emotion  as  a  tribute  to  his 
moving  reminiscences. 

"Oh,  Webb,  have  done  with  your  lugubrious  ancient 
history!"  cried  Burt,  springing  up. 

"It's  time  we  were  getting  ready  for  a  homeward  move," 
said  Maggie.  "I'll  go  and  pack  the  things." 

"And  I'll  help  you,"  added  Miss  Hargrove,  hastily  fol 
lowing  her. 

"Let  me  look  at  the  house,  too,"  said  Amy,  taking  the 
glass;  then  added,  after  a  moment:  "Poor  Margaret  Arnold! 
It  was  indeed  a  tragedy,  as  you  said,  Webb — a  sadder  one 
than  these  old  military  preparations  can  suggest.  In  all  his 
career  of  war  and  treachery  Arnold  never  inflicted  a  more 
cruel  wound." 

"How  much  feeling  Miss  Hargrove  showed!"  Webb 
remarked,  musingly. 

"Yes,"  said  Amy,  quietly,  "she  was  evidently  feeling 
deeply."  Her  thought  was,  "I  don't  believe  she  heard  a 
•word  that  Webb  said."  Then,  seeing  that  Burt  was  help 
ing  Maggie  and  Miss  Hargrove,  she  added,  "Please  point 
out  to  me  some  other  interesting  places." 

Webb,  well  pleased,  talked  on  to  a  listener  who  did  not 
give  him  her  whole  attention.  She  could  not  forget  Ger 
trude's  paleness,  and  her  alternations  from  extreme  gayety 
to  a  look  of  such  deep  sadness  as  to  awaken  not  a  little  sym 
pathetic  curiosity.  Amy  loved  her  friend  truly,  and  it  did 
not  seem  strange  to  her  that  Miss  Hargrove  was  deeply  in 
terested  in  Burt,  since  they  had  been  much  thrown  together, 
and  since  she  probably  owed  her  life  to  him.  Amy's  resent 
ment  toward  Burt  had  passed  away.  She  had  found  that 
her  pride,  merely,  and  not  her  heart,  was  woundod  by  his 
new  passion,  and  she  already  began  to  feel  that  she  never 
could  have  any  such  regard  for  him  as  her  friend  was  possi 
bly  cherishing.  Therefore  it  was,  perhaps,  not  unnatural 
that  her  tranquil  regard  should  prove  unsatisfying  to  Burt 
in  contrast  with  the  passion  of  which  Miss  Hargrove  was 
capable.  She  had  seen  his  vain  efforts  to  remain  loyal,  and 


404  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

had  smiled  at  them,  proposing  to  let  matters  take  their 
course,  and  to  give  little  aid  in  extricating  him  from  his 
dilemma.  Bat,  if  she  had  interpreted  her  friend's  face 
aright,  she  could  no  longer  stand  aloof,  an  amused  and 
slightly  satirical  spectator.  If  Burt  deserved  some  punish 
ment,  Gertrude  did  not,  and  she  was  inclined  to  guess  the 
cause  of  the  latter's  haste  to  return  to  the  city. 

It  may  thus  be  seen  that  Amy  was  fast  losing  her  un 
sophisticated  girlhood.  While  Burt's  passionate  words  had 
awakened  no  corresponding  feeling,  they  had  taught  her 
that  she  was  no  longer  a  child,  since  she  could  inspire  such 
words.  Her  intimacy  with  Miss  Hargrove,  and  the  latter's 
early  confidences,  had  enlarged  her  ideas  on  some  subjects. 
As  the  bud  of  a  flower  passes  slowly  through  long  and  ap 
parently  slow  stages  of  immaturity  and  at  last  suddenly 
opens  to  the  light,  so  she  had  reached  that  age  when  a  little 
experience  suggests  a  great  deal,  and  the  influences  around 
her  tended  to  develop  certain  thoughts  very  rapidly.  She 
saw  that  her  friend  had  not  been  brought  up  in  English  se 
clusion.  Admirers  by  the  score  had  flocked  around  her, 
and,  as  she  had  often  said,  she  proposed  to  marry  for  love. 
"I  have  the  name  of  being  cold,"  she  once  told  Amy,  "but 
I  know  I  can  love  as  can  few  others,  and  I  shall  know  it 
well  when  I  do  love,  too."  The  truth  was  daily  growing 
clearer  to  Amy  that  under  our  vivid  American  skies  the 
grand  passion  is  not  a  fiction  of  romance  or  a  quiet  arrange 
ment  between  the  parties  concerned. 

Miss  Hargrove  had  not  misjudged  herself.  Her  tropical 
nature,  when  once  kindled,  burned  with  no  feeble,  wavering 
flame.  She  had  passed  the  point  of  criticism  of  Burt.  She 
loved  him,  and  to  her  fond  eyes  he  seemed  more  worthy  of 
her  love  than  any  man  she  had  ever  before  known.  But  she 
had  not  passed  beyond  her  sense  of  truth  and  duty,  and  the 
feeling  came  to  her  that  she  must  go  away  at  once  and  en 
gage  in  that  most  pathetic  of  all  struggles  that  fall  to  wo 
man's  lot  As  the  conviction  grew  clear  on  this  bright 
October  day,  she  felt  that  her  heart  was  bleeding  internally. 


WEBB'S   FATEFUL   EXPEDITION  405 

Tears  would  come  into  her  eyes  at  the  dreary  prospect.  Her 
former  brilliant  society  life  now  looked  as  does  an  opera- 
house  in  the  morning,  when  the  gilding  and  tinsel  that 
flashed  and  sparkled  the  evening  before  are  seen  to  be  dull 
and  tarnished.  Burt  had  appeared  to  especial  advantage  in 
his  mountain  home.  He  excelled  in  all  manly  sports.  His 
tall,  fine  figure  and  unconscious,  easy  manner  were  as  full 
of  grace  as  deficient  in  conventionality,  and  she  thought 
with  disgust  of  many  of  her  former  admirers,  who  were 
nothing  if  not  stylish  after  the  arbitrary  mode  of  the  hour. 
At  the  same  time  he  had  proved  that  he  could  be  at  home 
in  a  drawing-room  on  the  simple  ground  of  good-breeding, 
and  not  because  he  had  been  run  through  fashion's  latest 
mold.  The  grand  scenery  around  her  suggested  the  man 
hood  that  kindled  her  imagination — a  manhood  strong,  fear 
less,  and  not  degenerated  from  that  sturdy  age  which  had 
made  these  scenes  historic. 

By  the  time  they  were  ready  to  start  homeward  the 
southern  side  of  Cro'  Nest  was  in  deep  blue  shadow.  They 
bowled  along  rapidly  till  they  came  to  the  steep  ascent,  and 
then  the  boys  and  the  young  men  sprang  out.  "Would  you 
like  to  walk,  Gertrude?"  Amy  asked,  for  she  was  bent  on 
throwing  her  friend  and  Burt  together  during  the  witching 
twilight  that  was  coming  on  apace. 

"I  fear  I  am  too  tired,  unless  the  load  is  heavy,"  she 
replied. 

"Oh,  no,  indeed,"  said  Webb.  "It  does  not  take  long 
to  reach  the  top  of  the  mountain  on  this  side,  and  then  it's 
chiefly  down  hill  the  rest  of  the  way." 

Amy,  who  had  been  sitting  with  Webb  and  Johnnie  as 
before,  said  to  Miss  Hargrove,  "Won't  you  step  across  the 
seats  and  keep  me  company  ?' ' 

She  complied,  but  not  willingly.  She  was  so  utterly  un 
happy  that  she  wished  to  be  left  to  herself  as  far  as  possible. 
In  her  realization  of  a  loss  that  seemed  immeasurable,  she 
was  a  little  resentful  toward  Amy,  feeling  that  she  had  been 
more  frank  and  confidential  than  her  friend.  If  Amy  had 


406  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

claims  on  Bart,  why  had  she  not  spoken  of  them  ?  why  had 
she  permitted  her  for  whom  she  professed  such  strong  friend 
ship  to  drift  almost  wholly  unwarned  upon  so  sad  a  fate? 
and  why  was  she  now  clearly  trying  to  bring  together  Burt 
and  the  one  to  whom  even  he  felt  that  he  had  no  right  to 
speak  in  more  than  a  friendly  manner?  While  she  was 
making  such  immense  sacrifices  to  be  true,  she  felt  that 
Amy  was  maintaining  an  unfair  reticence,  if  not  actually 
beguiling  herself  and  Burt  into  a  display  of  weakness  for 
which  they  would  be  condemned — or,  at  least,  he  would  be, 
and  love  identifies  itself  with  its  object.  These  thoughts, 
having  once  been  admitted,  grew  upon  her  mind  rapidly, 
for  it  is  hard  to  suffer  through  another  and  maintain  a  gen 
tle  charity.  Therefore  she  was  silent  when  she  took  her 
seat  by  Amy,  and  when  the  latter  gave  her  a  look  that  was 
like  a  caress,  she  did  not  return  it. 

"You  are  tired,  Gertrude,"  Amy  began  gently.  "In 
deed,  you  look  ill.  You  must  stay  with  me  to-night,  and 
I'll  watch  over  you  like  Sairy  Gamp." 

So  far  from  responding  to  Amy's  playful  and  friendly 
words,  Miss  Hargrove  said,  hastily, 

"Oh,  no,  I  had  better  go  right  on  home.  I  don't  feel 
very  well,  and  shall  be  better  at  home;  and  I  must  begin 
to  get  ready  to-morrow  for  my  return  to  the  city." 

Arny  would  not  be  repulsed,  but,  putting  her  arm  around 
her  friend,  she  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  asked: 

"Why  are  you  so  eager  to  return  to  New  York?  Are 
you  tiring  of  your  country  friends  ?  You  certainly  told  me 
that  you  expected  to  stay  till  November." 

"Fred  must  go  back  to  school  to-morrow,"  said  Ger 
trude,  in  a  constrained  voice,  "and  I  do  not  think  it  is  well 
to  leave  him  alone  in  the  city  house." 

' '  You  are  withdrawing  your  confidence  from  me, ' '  said 
Amy,  sadly. 

"Have  you  ever  truly  given  me  yours?"  was  the  low, 
impetuous  response.  "No.  If  you  had,  I  should  not  be 
the  unhappy  girl  I  am-to-night.  Well,  since  you  wish  to 


WEBB'S   FATEFUL    EXPEDITION  407 

know  the  whole  truth  you  shall.  You  said  you  could 
trust  me  implicitly,  and  I  promised  to  deserve  your  trust. 
If  you  had  said  to  me  that  Burt  was  bound  to  you  when 
I  told  you  that  I  was  heart-whole  and  fancy-free,  I  should 
have  been  on  my  guard.  Is  it  natural  that  I  should  be 
indifferent  to  the  man  who  risked  his  life  to  save  mine  ? 
Why  have  you  left  me  so  long  in  his  society  without  a  hint 
of  warning  ?  But  I  shall  keep  my  word.  I  shall  not  try  to 
snatch  happiness  from  another." 

Johnnie's  tuneful  little  voice  was  piping  a  song,  and  the 
rumble  of  the  wheels  over  a  stony  road  prevented  Maggie, 
on  the  last  seat,  from  hearing  anything. 

The  clasp  of  Amy's  arm  tightened.  "Now  you  shall  stay 
with  me  to-night,"  she  said.  "I  cannot  explain  here  and 
now.  See,  Burt  has  turned,  and  is  coming  toward  us.  I 
pledge  you  my  word  he  can  never  be  to  me  more  than 
a  brother.  I  do  not  love  him  except  as  a  brother,  and 
never  have,  and  you  can  snatch  no  happiness  from  me, 
except  by  treating  me  with  distrust  and  going  away." 

"Oh,  Amy,"  began  Miss  Hargrove,  in  tones  and  with 
a  look  that  gave  evidence  of  the  chaotic  bewilderment  of 
her  mind. 

"Hush!  We  are  not  very  lonely,  thank  you,  Mr.  Burt. 
You  look,  as  far  as  I  can  see  you  through  the  dusk,  as  if 
you  were  commiserating  us  as  poor  forlorn  creatures,  but 
we  have  some  resources  within  ourselves." 

"The  dusk  is,  indeed,  misleading.  We  are  the  forlorn 
creatures  who  have  no  resources.  Won't  you  please  take 
us  in?" 

"Take  you  in !  What  do  you  take  us  for  ?  I  assure  you 
we  are  very  simple,  honest  people." 

"In  that  case  I  shall  have  no  fears,  but  clamber  in  at 
once.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  been  on  a  twenty-mile  tramp." 

"What  an  implied  compliment  to  our  exhilarating 
society!" 

"Indeed  there  is — a  very  strong  one.  I've  been  so  im 
mensely  exhilarated  that,  in  the  re-action,  I'm  almost  faint." 


408  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"Maggie,"  cried  Amy,  "do  take  care  of  Burt;  he's 
going  to  faint." 

"He  must  wait  till  we  come  to  the  next  brook,  and  then 
we'll  put  him  in  it." 

"Webb,"  said  Amy,  looking  over  her  shoulder  at  the 
young  man,  who  was  now  following  the  carriage,  "is  there 
anything  the  matter  with  you,  also?" 

"Nothing  more  than  usual." 

"Oh,  your  trouble,  whatever  it  may  be,  is  chronic. 
Well,  well,  to  think  that  we  poor  women  may  be  the  only 
survivors  of  this  tremendous  expedition." 

"That  would  be  most  natural — the  survival  of  the  fittest, 
you  know." 

"I  don't  think  your  case  serious.  Science  is  uppermost 
in  your  mind,  as  ever.  You  ought  to  live  a  thousand  years, 
Webb,  to  see  the  end  of  all  your  theories. ' ' 

"I  fear  it  wouldn't  be  the  millennium  for  me,  and  that 
I  should  have  more  perplexing  theories  at  its  end  than  now." 

"That's  the  way  with  men — they  are  never  satisfied,"  re 
marked  Miss  Hargrove.  "Mr.  Clifford,  this  is  your  expe 
dition,  and  it's  getting  so  dark  that  I  shall  feel  safer  if 
you  are  driving." 

"Oh,  Gertrude,  you  have  no  confidence  in  me  whatever. 
As  it  I  would  break  your  neck — or  heart  either!"  Amy 
whispered  in  her  friend's  ear. 

"You  are  a  very  mysterious  little  woman,"  was  the  reply, 
given  in  like  manner,  "and  need  hours  of  explanation." 
Then,  to  Webb:  "Mr.  Clifford,  I've  much  more  confidence 
in  you  than  in  Amy.  Her  talk  is  so  giddy  that  I  want  a 
sober  hand  on  the  reins." 

"To  which  Mr.  Clifford  do  you  refer  ?"  asked  Bart. 

"Oh,  are  you  reviving?  I  thought  you  had  become 
unconscious." 

"I'm  not  wholly  past  feeling." 

"I  want  one  to  drive  who  can  see  his  way,  not  feel  it," 
was  the  laughing  response. 

Amy,  too,   was  laughing  silently,  as  she  reined  in  the 


WEBB'S   FATEFUL    EXPEDITION  409 

horses.  "What  are  you  two  girls  giggling  about?"  said 
Burt,  becoming  a  little  uncomfortable.  "The  idea  of  two 
such  refined  creatures  giggling!" 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Webb,  "what  am  I  to  do?  I  can't 
stand  up  between  you  and  drive." 

"Gertrude,  you  must  clamber  around  and  sustain  Burt's 
drooping  spirits." 

"Indeed,  Amy,  you  must  know  best  how  to  do  that," 
was  the  reply.  "As  guest,  I  claim  a  little  of  the  society  of 
the  commander-in-chief.  You  had  it  coming  over." 

"I'll  solve  the  vexed  question,"  said  Burt,  much  net 
tled,  and  leaping  out. 

"Now,  Burt,  the  question  isn't  vexed,  and  don't  you 
be,"  cried  Amy,  springing  lightly  over  to  the  next  seat. 
"There  are  Fred  and  Alf,  too,  with  the  gun.  Let  us  all 
get  home  as  soon  as  possible,  for  it's  nearly  time  for  supper 
already.  Come,  I  shall  feel  much  hurt  if  you  don't  keep 
me  company." 

Burt  at  once  realized  the  absurdity  of  showing  pique, 
although  he  felt  that  there  was  something  in  the  air  which 
he  did  not  understand.  He  came  back  laughing,  with  much 
apparent  good-nature,  and  saying,  "I  thought  I'd  soon  bring 
one  or  the  other  of  you  to  terms." 

"Oh,  what  a  diplomat  you  are!"  said  Amy,  with  diffi 
culty  restraining  a  new  burst  of  merriment. 

They  soon  reached  the  summit,  and  paused  to  give  the 
horses  a  breathing.  The  young  moon  hung  in  the  west, 
and  its  silver  crescent  symbolized  to  Miss  Hargrove  the 
hope  that  was  growing  in  her  heart.  "Amy,"  she  said, 
"don't  you  remember  the  song  we  arranged  from  'The 
Culprit  Fay'  ?  We  certainly  should  sing  it  here  on  this 
mountain.  You  take  the  solo." 

Amy  sang,  in  clear  soprano: 

"  'The  moon  looks  down  on  old  Cro'  Nest, 

She  mellows  the  shades  on  his  shaggy  breast, 
And  seems  his  huge  gray  form  to  throw 
In  a  silver  cone  on  the  wave  below.'  " 
Vol.  1       aR 


410  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"Imagine  the  cone  and  wave,  please,"  said  Miss  Har 
grove;  and  then,  in  an  alto  rich  with  her  heart's  deep  feel 
ing,  she  sang  with  Amy: 

"  'Ouphe  and  goblin!  imp  and  sprite! 

Elf  of  eve !  and  starry  fay ! 
Te  that  love  the  moon's  soft  light, 

Hither — hither  wend  your  way ; 
Twine  ye  in  a  jocund  ring ; 

Sing  and  trip  it  merrily, 
Hand  to  hand  and  wing  to  wing, 

Round  the  wild  witch-hazel  tree.'  " 

"If  I  were  a  goblin,  I'd  come,  for  music  like  that,"  cried 
Burt,  as  they  started  rapidly  homeward. 

"You  are  much  too  big  to  suggest  a  culprit  fay,"  said 
Amy. 

"But  the  description  of  the  fay's  charmer  is  your  por 
trait,"  he  replied,  in  a  low  tone: 

"  'But  well  I  know  her  sinless  mind 

Is  pure  as  the  angel  forms  above, 

Gentle  and  meek,  and  chaste  and  kind, 

Such  as  a  spirit  well  might  love.'  51 

"Oh,  no;  you  are  mistaken,  I'm  not  meek  in  the  least. 
Think  of  the  punishment: 

"  'Tied  to  the  hornet's  shardy  wings, 
Toss'd  on  the  pricks  of  nettles'  stings ;' 

you  know  the  rest." 

"What  witchery  has  got  into  you  to-night,  Amy?" 

"Do  you  think  I'm  a  witch?  Beware,  then.  Witches 
can  read  men's  thoughts." 

"That  last  song  was  so  good  that  I,  for  one,  would  be 
glad  of  more, ' '  cried  Webb. 

"You  men  must  help  us,  then,"  said  Miss  Hargrove, 
and  in  a  moment  the  wild,  dim  forest  was  full  of  melody, 
the  rocks  and  highlands  sending  back  soft  and  unheeded 
echoes. 

Burt,  meantime,  was  occupied  with  disagreeable  reflec 
tions.  Perhaps  both  the  girls  at  last  understood  him,  and 


WEBB'S   FATEFUL    EXPEDITION  411 

had  been  comparing  notes,  to  his  infinite  disadvantage.  His 
fickleness  and  the  dilemma  he  was  in  may  have  become 
a  jest  between  them.  What  could  he  do  ?  Resentment,  ex 
cept  against  himself,  was  impossible.  If  Amy  understood 
him,  in  what  other  way  could  she  meet  any  approach  to 
sentiment  on  his  part  than  by  a  laughing  scorn  ?  If  Miss 
Hargrove  had  divined  the  past,  or  had  received  a  hint  con 
cerning  it,  why  should  she  not  shun  his  society  ?  He  was 
half -desperate,  and  yet  felt  that  any  show  of  embarrassment 
or  anger  would  only  make  him  appear  more  ridiculous. 
The  longer  he  thought  the  more  sure  he  was  that  the  girls 
were  beginning  to  guess  his  position,  and  that  his  only 
course  was  a  polite  indifference  to  both.  But  this  policy 
promised  to  lead  through  a  thorny  path,  and  to  what  ?  In 
impotent  rage  at  himself  he  ground  his  teeth  during  the 
pauses  between  the  stanzas  that  he  was  compelled  to  sing. 
Such  was  the  discord  in  his  heart  that  he  felt  like  uttering 
notes  that  would  make  "night  hideous." 

He  was  still  more  distraught  when,  on  their  return,  they 
found  Mr.  Hargrove's  carriage  in  waiting,  and  Amy,  after 
a  brief  conference  with  her  friend  in  her  room,  came  down 
prepared  to  accompany  Miss  Hargrove  home  after  supper. 
In  spite  of  all  his  efforts  at  ease  and  gayety,  his  embarrass 
ment  and  trouble  were  evident.  He  had  observed  Miss 
Hargrove's  pallor  and  her  effort  to  keep  up  at  Fort  Putnam, 
and  could  not  banish  the  hope  that  she  sympathized  with 
him;  but  now  the  young  girl  was  demurely  radiant.  Her 
color  had  come  again,  and  the  lustre  of  her  beautiful  eyes 
was  dazzling.  Yet  they  avoided  his,  and  she  had  far  more 
to  say  to  Webb  and  the  others  than  to  him.  Webb,  too, 
was  perplexed,  for  during  the  day  Amy  had  been  as  bewil 
dering  to  him  as  to  Burt.  But  he  was  in  no  uncertainty  as 
to  his  course,  which  was  simply  to  wait.  He,  with  Burt, 
saw  the  girls  to  the  carriage,  and  the  latter  said  good-night 
rather  coldly  and  stiffly.  Alf  and  Fred  parted  regretfully, 
with  the  promise  of  a  correspondence  which  would  be  as 
remarkable  for  its  orthography  as  for  its  natural  history. 


412  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


M 


CHAPTER   LII 

BURT'S  SORE  DILEMMA 

E.  HAEGEOVE  greeted  Amy  cordially,  but  his 
questioning  eyes  rested  oftenest  on  his  daughter. 
Her  expression  and  manner  caused  him  to  pace  his 
study  long  and  late  that  night.  Mrs.  Hargrove  was  very 
polite  and  a  little  stately.  She  felt  that  she  existed  on  a 
plane  above  Amy. 

The  young  girls  soon  pleaded  fatigue,  and  retired.  Once 
in  the  seclusion  of  their  room  they  forgot  all  about  their  in 
nocent  fib,  and  there  was  not  a  trace  of  weariness  in  their 
manner.  While  Burt  was  staring  at  his  dismal,  tangled 
fortune,  seeing  no  solution  of  his  difficulties,  a  fateful  con 
ference  relating  to  him  was  taking  place.  Amy  did  not  look 
like  a  scorner,  as  with  a  sister's  love  and  a  woman's  tact 
she  pleaded  his  cause  and  palliated  his  course  to  one  in 
capable  of  harsh  judgment.  But  she  felt  that  she  must  be 
honest  with  her  friend,  and  that  the  whole  truth  would 
be  best  and  safest.  Her  conclusion  was:  "No  man  who 
loved  you,  and  whom  you  encouraged,  would  ever  change. 
I  know  now  that  I  never  had  a  particle  of  such  feeling  as 
you  have  for  Burt,  and  can  see  that  I  naturally  chilled  and 
quenched  his  regard  for  me." 

Miss  Hargrove's  dark  eyes  flashed  ominously  as  she 
spoke  of  Burt  or  of  any  man  proving  faithless  after  she  had 
given  encouragement. 

"But  it  wasn't  possible  for  me  to  give  him  any  real  en 
couragement,"  Amy  persisted.  "I've  never  felt  as  you  do, 
and  am  not  sure  that  I  want  to  for  a  long  time. ' ' 


BURT'S   SORE   DILEMMA  413 

"How  about  Webb?"  Miss  Hargrove  almost  said,  but 
she  suppressed  the  words,  feeling  that  since  he  had  not  re 
vealed  his  secret  she  had  no  right  to  do  so.  Indeed,  as  she 
recalled  how  sedulously  he  had  guarded  it  she  was  sure  he 
would  not  thank  her  for  suggesting  it  to  Amy  before  she  was 
ready  for  the  knowledge.  Impetuous  as  Miss  Hargrove  was 
at  times,  she  had  too  fine  a  nature  to  be  careless  of  the  rights 
and  feelings  of  others.  Moreover,  she  felt  that  Webb  had 
been  her  ally,  whether  consciously  or  not,  and  he  should 
have  his  chance  with  all  the  help  she  could  give  him,  but 
she  was  wise  enough  to  know  that  obtrusion  and  premature 
aid  are  often  disastrous. 

The  decision,  after  this  portentous  conference,  was:  "Mr. 
Burt  must  seek  me,  and  seek  very  zealously.  I  know  you 
well  enough  Amy,  to  be  sure  that  you  will  give  him  no 
hints.  It's  bad  enough  to  love  a  man  before  I've  been 
asked  to  do  so.  What  an  utterly  perverse  and  unmanage 
able  thing  one's  heart  is!  I  shall  do  no  angling,  however, 
nor  shall  I  permit  any." 

"You  may  stand  up  straight,  Gertrude,"  said  Arny, 
laughing,  "but  don't  lean  over  backward." 

Burt  entertained  half  a  dozen  wild  and  half-tragic  proj 
ects  before  he  fell  asleep  late  that  night,  but  finally,  in 
utter  self -disgust,  settled  down  on  the  prosaic  and  not  ir 
rational  one  of  helping  through  with  the  fall  work  on  the 
farm,  and  then  of  seeking  some  business  or  profession  to 
which  he  could  give  his  whole  mind.  "As  to  ladies' 
society,"  he  concluded,  savagely,  "I'll  shun  it  hereafter  till 
I'm  grown  up." 

Burt  always  attained  a  certain  kind  of  peace  and  the 
power  to  sleep  after  he  had  reached  an  irrevocable  decision. 

During  the  night  the  wind  veered  to  the  east,  and  a  cold, 
dismal  rain-storm  set  in.  Dull  and  dreary  indeed  the  day 
proved  to  Burt.  He  could  not  go  out  and  put  his  resolu 
tion  into  force.  He  fumed  about  the  house,  restless,  yet 
reticent.  He  would  rather  have  fought  dragons  than  keep 
company  with  his  own  thoughts  in  inaction.  All  the  fam- 


414  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

ily  supposed  he  missed  Amy,  except  Webb,  who  hoped  he 
missed  some  one  else. 

"Why  don't  you  go  over  and  bring  Amy  home,  Burt?" 
his  mother  asked,  at  the  dinner-table.  "The  house  seems 
empty  without  her,  and  everybody  is  moping.  Even  father 
has  fretted  over  his  newspaper,  and  wished  Amy  was  here." 

"Why  can't  they  print  an  edition  of  the  paper  for  old 
men  and  dark  days?"  said  the  old  gentleman,  discontent 
edly. 

"Well,"  remarked  Leonard,  leaning  back  in  his  chair, 
and  looking  humorously  at  Maggie,  "I'm  sorry  for' you 
young  fellows,  but  I'm  finding  the  day  serene." 

"Of  course  you  are,"  snapped  Burt.  "With  an  arm 
chair  to  doze  in  and  a  dinner  to  look  forward  to,  what 
more  do  you  wish?  As  for  Webb,  he- can  always  get 
astride  of  some  scientific  hobby,  no  matter  how  bad  the 
weather  is." 

"As  for  Burt,  he  can  bring  Amy  home,  and  then  every 
one  will  be  satisfied,"  added  his  mother,  smiling. 

Thus  a  new  phase  of  his  trial  presented  itself  to  poor 
Burt.  He  must  either  face  those  two  girls  after  their 
night's  conclave,  with  all  its  possible  revelations,  or  else 
awaken  at  once  very  embarrassing  surmises.  Why 
shouldn't  he  go  for  Amy?  all  would  ask.  "Well,  why 
shouldn't  I?"  he  thought.  "I  may  as  well  face  it  out." 
And  in  a  mood  of  mingled  recklessness  and  fear  he  drove 
through  the  storm.  When  his  name  was  announced  the 
girls  smiled  significantly,  but  went  down  looking  as  uncon 
scious  as  if  they  had  not  spoken  of  him  in  six  months,  and 
Burt  could  not  have  been  more  suave,  non-committal,  and 
impartially  polite  if  these  ladies  had  been  as  remote  from 
his  thoughts  as  one  of  Webb's  theories.  At  the  same  time 
he  intimated  that  he  would  be  ready  to  return  when  Amy 
was. 

At  parting  the  friends  gave  each  other  a  little  look  of 
dismay,  and  he  caught  it  from  the  same  telltale  mirror  that 
persisted  in  taking  a  part  in  this  drama. 


BURT'S   SORE   DILEMMA  415 

"Aha!"  though  the  young  fellow,  "so  they  have  been 
exchanging  confidences,  and  my  manner  is  disconcerting  — 
not  what  was  expected.  If  I  have  become  a  jest  between 
them  it  shall  be  a  short-lived  one.  Miss  Hargrove,  with 
all  her  city  experience,  shall  find  that  I'm  not  so  young 
and  verdant  but  that  I  can  take  a  hand  in  this  game  also. 
As  for  Amy,  I  now  know  she  never  cared  for  me,  and  I 
don't  believe  she  ever  would;"  and  so  he  went  away  with 
laughing  repartee,  and  did  not  see  the  look  of  deep  disap 
pointment  with  which  he  was  followed. 

Amy  was  perplexed  and  troabled.  Her  innocent  schemes 
might  not  be  so  easily  accomplished  if  Burt  would  be  wrong- 
headed.  She  was  aware  of  the  dash  of  recklessness  in  his 
character,  and  feared  that  under  the  impulse  of  pride  he 
might  spoil  everything,  or,  at  least,  cause  much  needless 
delay. 

With  the  fatality  of  blundering  which  usually  attends 
upon  such  occasions,  he  did  threaten  to  fulfil  her  fears,  and 
so  successfully  that  Amy  was  in  anxiety,  and  Miss  Hargrove 
grew  as  pale  as  she  was  resolute  not  to  make  the  least  ad 
vance,  while  poor  Webb  felt  that  his  suspense  never  would 
end.  Burt  treated  Amy  in  an  easy,  fraternal  manner.  He 
engaged  actively  in  the  task  of  gathering  and  preparing  for 
market  the  large  crop  of  apples,  and  he  openly  broached  the 
subject  of  going  into  a  business  of  some  kind  away  from 
home,  where,  he  declared,  with  a  special  meaning  for  Amy, 
he  was  not  needed,  adding:  "It's  time  I  was  earning  my 
salt  and  settling  down  to  something  for  life.  Webb  and 
Len  can  take  care  of  all  the  land,  and  I  don't  believe  I 
was  cut  out  for  a  farmer." 

He  not  only  troubled  Amy  exceedingly,  but  he  per 
plexed  all  the  family,  for  it  seemed  that  he  was  decidedly 
taking  a  new  departure.  One  evening,  a  day  or  two  after 
he  had  introduced  the  project  of  going  elsewhere,  his  father, 
to  Amy's  dismay,  suggested  that  he  should  go  to  the  far 
West  and  look  after  a  large  tract  of  land  which  the  old  gen 
tleman  had  bought  some  years  before.  It  was  said  that  a 


416  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

railroad  was  to  be  built  through  it,  and,  if  so,  the  value  of 
the  property  would  be  greatly  enhanced,  and  steps  should 
be  taken  to  get  part  of  it  into  the  market.  Burt  took  hold 
of  the  scheme  with  eagerness,  and  was  for  going  as  soon 
as  possible.  Looking  to  note  the  effect  of  his  words  upon 
Amy,  he  saw  that  her  expression  was  not  only  reproachful, 
but  almost  severe.  Leonard  heartily  approved  of  the  plan. 
Webb  was  silent,  and  in  deep  despondency,  feeling  that  if 
Burt  went  now  nothing  would  be  settled.  He  saw  Amy's 
aversion  to  the  project  also,  and  misinterpreted  it. 

She  was  compelled  to  admit  that  the  prospects  were 
growing  very  dark.  Burt  might  soon  depart  for  an  indefinite 
absence,  and  Miss  Hargrove  return  to  the  city.  Amy, 
who  had  looked  upon  the  mutations  in  her  own  prospects 
so  quietly,  was  almost  feverishly  eager  to  aid  her  friend. 
She  feared  she  had  blundered  on  the  mountain  ride.  Burt's 
pride  had  been  wounded,  and  he  had  received  the  impres 
sion  that  his  April-like  moods  had  been  discussed  satiri 
cally.  It  was  certain  that  he  had  been  very  deeply  inter 
ested  in  Gertrude,  and  that  he  was  throwing  away  not  only 
his  happiness,  but  also  hers;  and  Amy  felt  herself  in  some 
degree  to  blame.  Therefore  she  was  bent  upon  ending  the 
senseless  misunderstanding,  but  found  insurmountable  em 
barrassments  on  every  side.  Miss  Hargrove  was  prouder 
than  Burt.  Wild  horses  could  not  draw  her  to  the  Clif 
fords'.  With  a  pale,  resolute  face,  she  declined  even  to 
put  herself  in  the  way  of  receiving  the  least  advance.  Amy 
would  gladly  have  taken  counsel  of  Webb,  but  could  not  do 
so  without  revealing  her  friend's  secret,  and  also  disclosing 
mere  surmises  about  Burt,  which,  although  amounting  to 
conviction  in  her  mind,  could  not  be  mentioned.  There 
fore,  from  the  very  delicacy  of  the  situation,  she  felt  her 
self  helpless.  Nature  was  her  ally,  however,  and  if  all 
that  was  passing  in  Burt's  mind  had  been  manifest,  the  ar 
dent  little  schemer  would  not  have  been  so  despondent. 

The  best  hope  of  Burt  had  been  that  he  had  checkmated 
the  girls  in  their  disposition  to  make  jesting  comparisons. 


BURTS   SORE   DILEMMA  417 

He  would  retire  with  so  much  nonchalance  as  to  leave  noth 
ing  to  be  said.  They  would  find  complete  inaction  and 
silence  hard  to  combat.  But  the  more  he  thought  of  it  the 
less  it  seemed  like  an  honorable  retreat.  He  had  openly 
wooed  one  girl,  he  had  since  lost  his  heart  to  another,  and 
she  had  given  him  a  glimpse  of  strong  regard,  if  not  more. 
His  thoughts  were  busy  with  her  every  word  and  glance. 
How  much  had  his  tones  and  eyes  revealed  to  her  ?  Might 
she  not  think  him  a  heartless  flirt  if  he  continued  to  avoid 
her  and  went  away  without  a  word  ?  Would  it  not  be  bet 
ter  to  be  laughed  at  as  one  who  did  not  know  his  own  mind 
than  be  despised  for  deliberate  trifling  ?  Amy  had  asked 
him  to  go  and  spend  an  evening  with  her  friend,  and  he 
had  pleaded  weariness  as  an  excuse.  Her  incredulous 
look  and  rather  cool  manner  since  had  not  been  reassur 
ing.  She  had  that  very  morning  broached  the  subject  of 
a  chestnutting  party  for  the  following  day,  and  he  had 
promptly  said  that  he  was  going  to  the  city  to  make  in 
quiries  about  routes  to  the  West. 

"Why,  Burt,  you  can  put  off  your  trip  to  town  for  a 
day,"  said  his  mother.  "If  you  are  to  leave  us  so  soon 
you  should  make  the  most  of  the  days  that  are  left." 

"That  is  just  what  he  is  doing,"  Amy  remarked,  satiri 
cally.  "He  has  become  absorbed  in  large  business  consid 
erations.  Those  of  us  who  have  not  such  resources  are  of 
no  consequence." 

The  old  people  and  Leonard  believed  that  Amy  was  not 
pleased  with  the  idea  of  Burt's  going  away,  but  they  felt 
that  she  was  a  little  unreasonable,  since  the  young  fellow 
was  rather  to  be  commended  for  wishing  to  take  life  more 
seriously.  But  her  words  rankled  in  Burt's  mind.  He  felt 
that  she  understood  him  better  than  the  others,  and  that  he 
was  not  winning  respect  from  her.  In  the  afternoon  he  saw 
her,  with  Alf  and  Johnnie,  starting  for  the  chestnut- trees, 
and  although  she  passed  not  far  away  she  gave  him  only  a 
slight  greeting,  and  did  not  stop  for  a  little  merry  banter, 
as  usual.  The  young  fellow  was  becoming  very  unhappy, 


418  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

and  he  felt  that  his  position  was  growing  intolerable.  That 
Amy  should  be  cold  toward  him,  or,  indeed,  toward  any 
one,  was  an  unheard-of  thing,  and  he  knew  that  she  must 
feel  that  there  was  good  reason  for  her  manner.  "And  is 
there  not?"  he  asked  himself,  bitterly.  "What  are  she 
and  Miss  Hargrove  thinking  about  me?" 

The  more  he  thought  upon  the  past  the  more  awkward 
and  serious  appeared  his  dilemma,  and  his  long  Western 
journey,  which  at  first  he  had  welcomed  as  promising  a  di 
version  of  excitement  and  change,  now  began  to  appear  like 
exile.  He  dreaded  to  think  of  the  memories  he  must  take 
with  him;  still  more  he  deprecated  the  thoughts  he  would 
leave  behind  him.  His  plight  made  him  so  desperate  that 
he  suddenly  left  the  orchard  where  he  was  gathering  apples, 
went  to  the  house,  put  on  his  riding-suit,  and  in  a  few  mo 
ments  was  galloping  furiously  away  on  his  black  horse. 
With  a  renewal  of  hope  Webb  watched  his  proceedings, 
and  with  many  surmises,  Amy,  from  a  distant  hillside, 
saw  him  passing  at  a  break-neck  pace. 


BURT'S   RESOLVE  419 


CHAPTER  LIII 
BURT'S  BE s OL VE 

FOE-  the  first  two  or  three  miles  Burt  rode  as  if  he  were 
trying  to  leave  care  behind  him,  scarcely  heeding 
what  direction  he  took.  When  at  last  he  reined  his 
reeking  horse  he  found  himself  near  the  entrance  of  the  lane 
over  which  willows  met  in  a  Gothic  arch.  He  yielded  to 
the  impulse  to  visit  the  spot  which  had  seen  the  beginning 
of  so  fateful  an  acquaintance,  and  had  not  gone  far  when  a 
turn  in  the  road  revealed  a  group  whose  presence  almost 
made  his  heart  stand  still  for  a  moment.  Miss  Hargrove 
had  stopped  her  horse  on  the  very  spot  where  he  had  aided 
her  in  her  awkward  predicament.  Her  back  was  toward  him, 
and  her  great  dog  was  at  her  side,  looking  up  into  her  face, 
as  if  in  mute  sympathy  with  his  fair  mistress. 

Hope  sprang  up  in  Burt's  heart.  She  could  not  be  there 
with  bowed  head  if  she  despised  him.  Her  presence  seemed 
in  harmony  with  that  glance  by  which,  when  weak  and  un 
nerved  after  escaping  from  deadly  peril,  she  had  revealed 
possibly  more  than  gratitude  to  the  one  who  had  rescued 
her.  His  love  rose  like  an  irresistible  tide,  and  he  resolved 
that  before  he  left  his  home  Amy  and  Miss  Hargrove  should 
know  the  whole  truth,  whatever  might  be  the  result.  Mean 
while  he  was  rapidly  approaching  the  young  girl,  and  the 
dog's  short  bark  of  recognition  was  her  first  intimation  of 
Burt's  presence.  Her  impulse  was  to  fly,  but  in  a  second 
she  saw  the  absurdity  of  this  course,  and  yet  she  was  greatly 
embarrassed,  and  would  rather  have  been  discovered  by  him 
at  almost  any  other  point  of  the  globe.  She  was  going  to 


420  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

the  city  on  the  morrow,  and  as  she  had  drawn  rein  on  this 
spot  and  realized  the  bitterness  of  her  disappointment,  tears 
would  come.  She  wiped  them  hastily  away,  but  dreaded 
lest  their  traces  should  be  seen. 

Turning  her  horse,  she  met  Burt  with  a  smile  that  her 
moist  eyes  belied,  and  said:  "I'm  glad  you  do  not  find  me 
in  such  an  awkward  plight  as  when  we  first  met  here.  I've 
been  giving  my  horse  a  rest.  Do  you  not  want  a  gallop?" 
and  away  like  the  wind  she  started  homeward. 

Burt  easily  kept  at  her  side,  but  conversation  was  impos 
sible.  At  last  he  said:  "My  horse  is  very  tired,  Miss  Har 
grove.  At  this  pace  you  will  soon  be  home,  and  I  shall  feel 
that  you  are  seeking  to  escape  from  me.  Have  I  fallen  so 
very  low  in  your  estimation  ?' ' 

"Why,"  she  exclaimed,  in  well-feigned  surprise,  as  she 
checked  her  horse,  "what  have  you  done  that  you  should 
fall  in  my  estimation  ?" 

"I  shall  tell  you  before  very  long,"  he  said,  with  an 
expression  that  seemed  almost  tragic. 

"Mr.  Clifford,  you  surprise  me.  Your  horse  is  all  of 
a  foam  too.  Surely  this  brief  gallop  cannot  have  so  tried 
your  superb  beast.  What  has  happened?  Amy  is  not  ill, 
or  any  one  ?' ' 

"Oh,  no,"  he  replied,  with  a  grim  laugh.  "Everyone 
is  well  and  complacent.  I  had  been  riding  rapidly  before  I 
met  you.  My  horse  has  been  idle  for  some  days,  and  I  had 
to  run  the  spirit  out  of  him.  Amy  wishes  to  have  a  chest- 
nutting  party  to-morrow.  Won't  you  join  us  ?" 

"I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Clifford,  but  I  return  to  the  city  to 
morrow  afternoon,  and  was  coming  over  in  the  morning 
to  say  good- by  to  Amy  and  your  father  and  mother." 

"I  am  very  sorry  too,"  he  said,  in  tones  that  gave  em 
phasis  to  his  words. 

She  turned  upon  him  a  swift,  questioning  glance,  but  her 
eyes  instantly  fell  before  his  intense  gaze. 

"Oh,  well,"  she  said,  lightly,  "we've  had  a  very  pleasant 
summer,  and  all  things  must  come  to  an  end,  you  know. " 


BURT'S   RESOLVE  421 

Then  she  went  on  speaking,  in  a  matter-of-fact  way,  of  the 
need  of  looking  after  Fred,  who  was  alone  in  town,  and  of 
getting  the  city  house  in  order,  and  of  her  plans  for  the 
winter,  adding:  "As  there  is  a  great  deal  of  fruit  on  the 
place,  papa  does  not  feel  that  he  can  leave  just  yet.  You 
know  he  goes  back  and  forth  often,  and  so  his  business  does 
not  suffer.  But  I  can  just  as  well  go  down  now,  and  nearly 
all  my  friends  have  returned  to  town." 

"All  your  friends,  Miss  Hargrove  ?" 

"Amy  has  promised  to  visit  me  soon,"  she  said,  hastily. 

"It  would  seem  that  I  am  not  down  on  your  list  of 
friends,"  he  began,  gloomily. 

"Why,  Mr.  Clifford,  I'm  sure  papa  and  I  would  be  glad 
to  have  you  call  whenever  you  are  in  town." 

"I  fear  I  shall  have  to  disappoint  Mr.  Hargrove,"  he 
said,  a  little  satirically.  "I'm  going  West  the  last  of  this 
month,  and  may  be  absent  much  of  the  winter.  I  ex 
pect  to  look  about  in  that  section  for  some  opening  in 
business. ' ' 

"Indeed,"  she  replied,  in  tones  which  were  meant  to 
convey  but  little  interest,  yet  which  had  a  slight  tremor 
in  spite  of  her  efforts.  "It  will  be  a  very  great  change  for 
you." 

"Perhaps  you  think  that  constitutes  its  chief  charm." 

"Mr.  Clifford,"  she  said,  "what  chance  have  I  had  to 
think  about  it  at  all  ?  You  have  never  mentioned  the  mat 
ter."  (Amy  had,  however,  and  Gertrude  had  not  only 
thought  about  it,  but  dreamed  of  it,  as  if  she  had  been 
informed  that  on  a  certain  date  the  world  would  end.) 
"Is  it  not  a  rather  sudden  plan?"  she  asked,  a  little  hesi 
tatingly. 

"Yes,  it  is.  My  father  has  a  large  tract  of  land  in  the 
West,  and  it's  time  it  was  looked  after.  Isn't  it  natural 
that  I  should  think  of  doing  something  in  life?  I  fear 
there  is  an  impression  in  your  mind  that  I  entertain  few 
thoughts  beyond  having  a  good  time." 

"To  have  a  good  time  in  life,"  she  said,  smiling  at  him, 


422  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

"is  a  very  serious  matter,  worthy  of  any  one's  attention.  It 
would  seem  that  few  accomplish  it." 

"And  I  greatly  fear  that  I  shall  share  in  the  ill-success 
of  the  majority." 

"You  are  much  mistaken.  A  man  has  no  end  of  re 
sources.  You  will  soon  be  enjoying  the  excitement  of  travel 
and  enterprise  in  the  West." 

"And  you  the  excitement  of  society  and  conquest  in  the 
city.  Conquests,  however,  must  be  almost  wearisome  to 
you,  Miss  Hargrove,  you  make  them  so  easily." 

"You  overrate  my  power.  I  certainly  should  soon  weary 
of  conquests  were  I  making  them.  Women  are  different 
from  men  in  this  respect.  Where  in  history  do  we  read  of 
a  man  who  was  satiated  with  conquest  ?  Well,  here  we  are 
at  home.  Won't  you  come  in  ?  Papa  will  be  glad  to  see 
you." 

"Are  you  going  to  the  city  to-morrow  ?" 

"Yes." 

"May  I  call  on  you  this  evening  ?" 

"Certainly.     Bring  Amy  with  you,  won't  you?" 

"Will  you  forgive  me  if  I  come  alone?" 

"I'll  try  to.  I  suppose  Amy  will  be  tired  from 
nutting." 

He  did  not  reply,  but  lifted  his  hat  gravely,  mounted  his 
horse,  and  galloped  away  as  if  he  were  an  aid  bearing  a  mes 
sage  that  might  avert  a  battle. 

Miss  Hargrove  hastened  to  her  room,  and  took  off  her 
hat  with  trembling  hands.  Burt's  pale,  resolute  face  told 
her  that  the  crisis  in  her  life  had  come.  And  yet  she  did 
not  fully  understand  him.  If  he  meant  to  speak,  why  had 
he  not  done  so  ?  why  had  he  not  asked  permission  to  consult 
her  father  ? 

Mr.  Hargrove,  from  his  library  window,  saw  Burt's 
formal  parting,  and  concluded  that  his  fears  or  hopes — he 
scarcely  knew  which  were  uppermost,  so  deep  was  his  love 
for  his  daughter,  and  so  painful  would  it  'be  to  see  her  un 
happy—were  not  to  be  fulfilled.  By  a  great  effort  Gertrude 


BURT'S   RESOLVE  423 

appeared  not  very  distraite  at  dinner,  nor  did  she  mention 
Burt,  except  in  a  casual  manner,  in  reply  to  a  question  from 
her  mother,  but  her  father  thought  he  detected  a  strong  and 
suppressed  excitement. 

She  excused  herself  early  from  the  table,  and  said  she 
must  finish  packing  for  her  departure. 


424  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTEK  LIV 

A    GENTLE    EXORCIST 

BUET'S  black  horse  was  again  white  before  he  ap 
proached  his  home.  In  the  distance  he  saw  Amy 
returning,  the  children  running  on  before,  Alf 
whooping  like  a  small  Indian  to  some  playmate  who  was 
answering  further  away.  The  gorgeous  sunset  lighted 
up  the  still  more  brilliant  foliage,  and  made  the  scene  a 
fairyland.  But  Burt  had  then  no  more  eye  for  nature  than 
a  man  would  have  who  had  staked  his  all  on  the  next 
throw  of  the  dice.  Amy  was  alone,  and  now  was  his  chance 
to  intercept  her  before  she  reached  the  house.  Imagine  her 
surprise  as  she  saw  him  make  his  horse  leap  the  intervening 
fences,  and  come  galloping  toward  her. 

"Burt,"  she  cried,  as  he,  in  a  moment  or  two,  reined  up 
near  her,  "you  will  break  your  neck!" 

"It  wouldn't  matter  much,"  he  said,  grimly.  "I  fear  a 
worse  fate  than  that." 

"What do  you  mean?"  she  asked,  in  alarm.  "What  has 
happened?" 

He  threw  the  bridle  over  a  stake  in  the  fence,  and  the 
horse  was  glad  to  rest,  with  drooping  head.  Then  he  came 
and  stood  beside  her,  his  face  flushed,  and  his  mouth  twitch 
ing  with  excitement  and  strong  feeling.  For  a  moment  he 
could  not  speak. 

"Burt,"  she  said,  "what  is  the  matter?  What  do  you 
fear?" 

"I  fear  your  scorn,  Amy,"  he  began,  impetuously;  "I 
fear  I  shall  lose  your  respect  forever.  But  I  can't  go  on 


A    GENTLE    EXORCIST  425 

any  longer  detesting  myself  and  feeling  that  you  and  Miss 
Hargrove  despise  me.  I  may  seem  to  you  and  her  a  fickle 
fool,  a  man  of  straw,  but  you  shall  both  know  the  truth.  I 
shan't  go  away  a  coward.  I  can  at  least  be  honest,  and 
then  you  may  think  what  you  please  of  my  weakness  and 
vacillation.  You  cannot  think  worse  things  than  I  think 
myself,  but  you  must  not  imagine  that  I  am  a  cold-blooded, 
deliberate  trifler,  for  that  has  never  been  true.  I  know  you 
don't  care  for  me,  and  never  did." 

"Indeed,  Burt,  you  are  mistaken.  I  do  care  for  you 
immensely,"  said  Amy,  eagerly  clasping  his  arm  with  both 
her  hands. 

"Amy,  Amy,"  said  Burt,  in  a  low,  desperate  tone, 
"think  how  few  short  months  have  passed  since  I  told  you 
I  loved  you,  and  protested  I  would  wait  till  I  was  gray. 
You  have  seen  me  giving  my  thoughts  to  another,  and  in 
your  mind  you  expect  to  see  me  carried  away  by  a  half- 
dozen  more.  You  are  mistaken,  but  it  will  take  a  long  time 
to  prove  it. ' ' 

"No,  Burt,  I  understand  you  better  than  you  think. 
Gertrude  has  inspired  in  you  a  very  different  feeling  from 
the  one  you  had  for  me.  I  think  you  are  loving  now  with 
a  man's  love,  and  won't  get  over  it  very  soon,  if  you  ever 
do.  You  have  seen,  you  must  have  felt,  that  my  love  for 
you  was  only  that  of  a  sister,  and  of  course  you  soon  began 
to  feel  toward  me  in  the  same  way.  I  don't  believe  I  would 
have  married  you  had  you  waited  an  age.  Don't  fret,  I'm 
not  going  to  break  my  heart  about  you. ' ' 

"I  should  think  not,  nor  will  any  one  else.  Oh,  Amy, 
I  so  despised  myself  that  I  have  been  half -desperate." 

"Despised  yourself  because  you  love  a  girl  like  Gertrude 
Hargrove !  I  never  knew  a  man  to  do  a  more  natural  and 
sensible  thing,  whether  she  gave  you  encouragement  or  not. 
If  I  were  a  man  I  would  make  love  to  her,  rest  assured,  and 
she  would  have  to  refuse  me  more  than  once  to  be  rid 
of  me." 

Burt  took  a  long  breath  of  immense  relief.     "You  are 


426  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

heavenly  kind,"  he  said.  "Are  you  sure  you  won't  despise 
me  ?  I  could  not  bear  that.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have 
done  such  an  awfully  mean  thing  in  making  love  to  you  in 
my  own  home,  and  then  in  changing." 

Her  laugh  rang  out  merrily.  "Fate  has  been  too  strong 
for  you,  and  I  think — I  mean — I  hope,  it  has  been  kind. 
Bless  you,  Burt,  I  could  never  get  up  any  such  feeling  as 
sways  you.  I  should  always  be  disappointing,  and  you 
would  have  found  out,  sooner  or  later,  that  your  best  chance 
would  be  to  discover  some  one  more  responsive.  Since  you 
have  been  so  frank,  I'll  be  so  too.  I  was  scarcely  more 
ready  for  your  words  last  spring  than  Johnnie,  but  I  was 
simple  enough  to  think  that  in  half  a  dozen  years  or  so  we 
might  be  married  if  all  thought  it  was  best,  and  my  pride 
was  a  little  hurt  when  I  saw  what — what — well,  Gertrude's 
influence  over  you.  But  I've  grown  much  older  the  last 
few  months,  and  know  now  that  my  thoughts  were  those  of 
a  child.  My  feeling  for  you  is  simply  that  of  a  sister,  and 
I  don't  believe  it  would  ever  have  changed.  Who  knows? 
I  might  eventually  have  an  acute  attack  also,  and  then  I 
should  be  in  a  worse  predicament  than  yours. ' ' 

"But  you  will  be  my  loving  sister  as  long  as  you  live, 
Amy?  You  will  believe  that  I  have  a  little  manhood  if 
given  a  chance  to  show  it?" 

"I  believe  it  now,  Burt,  and  I  can  make  you  a  hundred 
fold  better  sister  than  wife.  The  idea!  It  seems  but  the 
other  day  I  was  playing  with  dolls.  Here,  now,  cheer  up. 
You  have  judged  yourself  too  harshly;"  and  she  looked 
at  him  so  smilingly  and  affectionately  that  he  took  her  in  his 
arms  and  kissed  her  again  and  again,  exclaiming,  "You  can 
count  on  one  brother  to  the  last  drop  of  his  blood,  Oh, 
Amy,  whatever  happens  now,  I  won't  lose  courage.  Miss 
Hargrove  will  have  to  say  no  a  dozen  times  before  she  is 
through  with  me." 

At  this  moment  Webb,  from  the  top  of  a  tall  ladder 
in  the  orchard,  happened  to  glance  that  way,  and  saw  the 
embrace.  He  instantly  descended,  threw  down  his  basket 


A    GENTLE   EXORCIST  427 

of  apples,  and  with  it  all  hope.  Burt  had  won  Amy  at 
last.  The  coolness  between  them  had  been  but  a  misun 
derstanding,  which  apparently  had  been  banished  most 
decidedly.  He  mechanically  took  down  his  ladder  and 
placed  it  on  the  ground,  then  went  to  his  room  to  prepare 
for  supper. 

"Burt,"  cried  Amy,  when  they  were  half-way  home, 
"you  have  forgotten  your  horse." 

"If  he  were  Pegasus,  I  should  have  forgotten  him  to-day. 
Won't  you  wait  for  me  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I'll  do  anything  for  you." 

"Will  you?"  he  said,  eagerly.  "Will  you  tell  me  if 
you  think  Miss  Hargrove — " 

"No,  I  won't  tell  you  anything.  The  idea!  After  she 
has  refused  you  half  a  dozen  times,  I  may,  out  of  pity,  in 
tercede  a  little.  Go  get  your  horse,  smooth  your  brow,  and 
be  sensible,  or  you' 11  have  Webb  and  Leonard  poking  fun 
at  you.  Suppose  they  have  seen  you  galloping  over  fences 
and  ditches  like  one  posessed. " 

"Well,  I  was  possessed,  and  never  was  there  such  a  kind, 
gentle  exorcist.  I  have  seen  Miss  Hargrove  to-day;  I  had 
just  parted  from  her. ' ' 

' '  Did  you  say  anything  ?' ' 

"No,  Amy.  How  could  I,  until  I  had  told  you  ?  I  felt 
I  was  bound  to  you  by  all  that  can  bind  a  man." 

"Oh,  Burt,  suppose  I  had  not  released  you,  but  played 
Shylock,  what  would  you  have  done?"  and  her  laugh  rang 
out  again  in  intense  merriment. 

"I  had  no  fears  of  that,"  he  replied,  ruefully.  "You 
are  the  last  one  'to  practice  Mrs.  MacStinger's  tactics.  My 
fear  was  that  you  and  Miss  Hargrove  both  would  send  me 
West  as  a  precious  good  riddance." 

"Well,  it  was  square  of  you,  as  Alf  says,  to  come  to  me 
first,  and  I  appreciate  it,  but  I  should  not  have  resented 
the  omission.  Will  you  forgive  my  curiosity  if  I  ask  what 
is  the  next  move  in  the  campaign  ?  I've  been  reading  about 
the  war,  you  know,  and  I  am  quite  military  in  my  ideas." 


428  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

"I  have  Miss  Hargrove's  permission  to  call  to-night.  It 
wasn't  given  very  cordially,  and  she  asked  me  to  bring 
you." 

"No,  I  thank  you." 

"Oh,  I  told  her  she  would  have  to  forgive  me  if  I  came 
alone.  I  meant  to  have  it  out  to-day,  if  old  Chaos  came 
again."  When  Amy's  renewed  laughter  so  subsided  that 
he  could  speak,  he  resumed:  "I'm  going  over  there  after 
supper,  to  ask  her  father  for  permission  to  pay  my  ad 
dresses,  and  if  he  won't  give  it,  I  shall  tell  him  I  will  pay 
them  all  the  same — that  I  shall  use  every  effort  in  my  power 
to  win  his  daughter.  I  don't  want  a  dollar  of  his  money, 
but  I'm  bound  to  have  the  girl  if  she'll  ever  listen  to  me 
after  knowing  all  you  know." 

Amy's  laugh  ceased,  and  she  again  clasped  her  hands  on 
his  arm.  "Dear  Burt, "  she  said,  "your  course  now  seems 
to  me  manly  and  straightforward.  I  saw  the  strait  you  were 
in,  but  did  not  think  you  felt  it  so  keenly.  In  going  West 
I  feared  you  were  about  to  run  away  from  it.  However 
Gertrude  may  treat  you,  you  have  won  my  respect  by  your 
downright  truth.  She  may  do  as  she  pleases,  but  she  can't 
despise  you  now.  There  goes  your  horse  to  the  stable.  He 
has  learned  this  afternoon  that  you  are  in  no  state  of  mind 
to  take  care  of  him." 


BURT   TELLS   HIS   LOVE   AGAIN  429 


CHAPTEB  LV 

BURT   TELLS   HIS   LOVE   AGAIN 

WEBB  appeared  at  the  supper-table  the  personifica 
tion  of  -quiet  geniality,  but  Amy  thought  she  had 
never  seen  him  look  so  hollow-eyed.  The  long 
strain  was  beginning  to  tell  on  him,  decidedly,  and  to-night 
he  felt  as  if  he  had  received  a  mortal  blow.  But  with 
indomitable  courage  he  hid  his  wound,  and  seemed  ab 
sorbed  in  a  conversation  with  Leonard  and  his  father  about 
the  different  varieties  of  apples,  and  their  relative  value. 
Amy  saw  that  his  mother  was  looking  at  him  anxiously, 
and  she  did  not  wonder.  He  was  growing  thin  even  to 
gauntness. 

Burt  also  was  an  arrant  dissembler,  and  on  rising  from 
the  table  remarked  casually  that  he  was  going  over  to  bid 
Miss  Hargrove  good-by,  as  she  would  return  to  town  on 
the  morrow. 

"She'll  surely  come  and  see  us  before  she  goes,"  Mrs. 
Clifford  remarked.  "It  seems  to  me  she  hasn't  been  very 
sociable  of  late." 

"Certainly,"  said  Amy.  "She'll  be  over  in  the  morn 
ing.  She  told  me  she  was  coming  to  say  good-by  to  us  all, 
and  she  has  asked  me  to  visit  her.  Come,  Webb,  you  look 
all  tired  out  to-night.  Let  me  read  to  you.  I'll  stumble 
through  the  dryest  scientific  treatise  you  have  if  I  can  see 
you  resting  on  the  sofa." 

"That's  ever  so  kind  of  you,  Amy,  and  I  appreciate  it 
more  than  you  imagine,  but  I'm  going  out  this  evening." 

"Oh,  of  course,  sisters  are  of  no  account.  What  girl  are 
you  going  to  see  ?' ' 


430  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

"No  girl  whatever.  I  am  too  old  and  dull  to  entertain 
the  pretty  creatures. ' ' 

"Don't  be  fishing.  You  know  one  you  could  entertain 
if  she  isn't  a  pretty  creature,  but  then  she's  only  a  sister 
who  doesn't  know  much." 

"I'm  sorry — I  must  go,"  he  said,  a  little  abruptly,  for 
her  lovely,  half-laughing,  half-reproachful  face,  turned  to 
his,  contained  such  mocking  promise  of  happiness  that  he 
could  not  look  upon  it.  What  was  his  urgent  business? 
His  rapid  steps  as  he  walked  mile  after  mile  indicated  that 
the  matter  was  pressing  indeed;  but,  although  it  was  late 
before  he  returned,  he  had  spoken  to  no  one.  The  house 
was  dark  and  silent  except  that  a  light  was  burning  in 
Burt's  room.  And  his  momentous  fortunes  the  reader  must 
now  follow. 

Miss  Hargrove,  with  a  fluttering  Jieart,  heard  the  rapid 
feet  of  his  horse  as  he  rode  up  the  avenue.  Truly,  he  was 
coming  at  a  lover's  pace.  The  door-bell  rang,  she  heard 
him  admitted,  and  expected  the  maid's  tap  at  her  door  to 
follow.  Why  did  it  not  come  ?  Were  the  tumultuous 
throbs  of  her  heart  so  loud  that  she  could  not  hear  it? 
What  had  become  of  him  ?  She  waited  and  listened  in 
vain.  She  opened  her  door  slightly;  there  was  no  sound. 
She  went  to  her  window.  There  below,  like  a  shadow, 
stood  a  saddled  horse.  Where  was  the  knight?  Had  the 
stupid  girl  shown  him  into  the  drawing-room  and  left  him 
there  ?  Surely  the  well-trained  servant  had  never  been 
guilty  of  such  a  blunder  before.  Could  it  have  been  some 
one  else  who  had  come  to  see  her  father  on  business  ?  She 
stole  down  the  stairway  in  a  tremor  of  apprehension,  and 
strolled  into  the  parlor  in  the  most  nonchalant  manner 
imaginable.  It  was  lighted,  but  empty,  and  her  expression 
suddenly  became  one  of  troubled  perplexity.  She  returned 
to  the  hall,  and  started  as  if  she  had  seen  an  apparition. 
There  on  the  rack  hung  Burt's  hat,  as  natural  as  life. 
Voices  reached  her  ear  from  her  father's  study.  She  took 
a  few  swift  steps  toward  it,  then  fled  to  her  room,  and  stood 


BDRT   TELLS   HIS   LOVE   AGAIN  431 

panting  before  her  mirror,  which  reflected  a  young  lady  in 
a  costume  charmingly  ill  adapted  to  "packing." 

flow  swiftly  the  minutes  passed!  how  eternally  long 
they  were !  W  ould  she  be  sent  for  ?  When  would  she  be 
sent  for?  "It  was  honorable  in  him  to  speak  to  papa  first, 
and  papa  would  not,  could  not,  answer  him  without  con 
sulting  me.  I  cannot  be  treated  as  a  child  any  longer,"  she 
muttered,  with  flashing  eyes.  "Papa  loves  me,"  she  mur 
mured,  in  swift  alternation  of  gentle  feeling.  "He  could 
not  make  my  happiness  secondary  to  a  paltry  sum  of 
money. ' ' 

Meanwhile  Burt  was  pleading  his  cause.  Mr.  Hargrove 
had  greeted  him  with  no  little  surprise.  The  parting  of  the 
young  people  had  not  promised  any  such  interview. 

"Have  you  spoken  to  my  daughter  on  this  subject?" 
Mr.  Hargrove  asked,  gravely,  after  the  young  fellow  had 
rather  incoherently  made  known  his  errand. 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Burt,  "I  have  not  secured  your  per 
mission.  At  the  same  time,"  he  added,  with  an  ominous 
flash  in  his  blue  eyes,  "sincerity  compels  me  to  say  that 
I  could  not  take  a  final  refusal  from  any  lips  except  those 
of  your  daughter,  and  not  readily  from  hers.  I  would  not 
give  up  effort  to  win  her  until  convinced  that  any  amount 
of  patient  endeavor  was  useless.  I  should  not  persecute 
her,  but  I  would  ask  her  to  reconsider  an  adverse  answer 
as  often  as  she  would  permit,  and  I  will  try  with  all  my 
soul  to  render  myself  more  worthy  of  her." 

"In  other  words,"  began  Mr.  Hargrove,  severely,  "if 
I  should  decline  this  honor,  I  should  count  for  nothing." 

"No,  sir,  I  do  not  mean  that,  and  I  hope  I  haven't  said 
it,  even  by  implication.  Your  consent  that  I  should  have 
a  fair  field  in  which  to  do  my  best  would  receive  from  me 
boundless  gratitude.  What  I  mean  to  say  is,  that  I  could 
not  give  her  up;  I  should  not  think  it  right  to  do  so.  This 
question  is  vital  to  me,  and  I  know  of  no  reason,"  he  added, 
a  little  haughtily,  "why  I  should  be  refused  a  privilege 
which  is  considered  the  right  of  every  gentleman." 


432  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"I  have  not  in  the  slightest  degree  raised  the  question 
of  your  being  a  gentleman,  Mr.  Clifford.  Your  course  in 
coming  to  me  before  revealing  your  regard  to  my  daughter 
proves  that  you  are  one.  But  you  should  realize  that  you 
are  asking  a  great  deal  of  me.  '  My  child's  happiness  is  my 
first  and  only  consideration.  You  know  the  condition  of 
life  to  which  my  daughter  has  been  accustomed.  It  is  right 
and  natural  that  I  should  also  know  something  of  your 
prospects,  your  ability  to  meet  the  obligations  into  which 
you  wish  to  enter. ' ' 

Poor  Burt  flushed  painfully,  and  hesitated.  After  a  mo 
ment  he  answered,  with  a  dignity  and  an  evident  sincerity 
which  won  golden  opinions  from  Mr.  Hargrove:  "I  shall 
not  try  to  mislead  you  in  the  least  on  this  point.  For  my 
own  sake  I  wish  that  your  daughter  were  far  poorer  than 
I  am.  I  can  say  little  more  than  that  I  could  give  her  a 
home  now  and  every  comfort  of  life.  I  could  not  now  pro 
vide  for  her  the  luxury  to  which  she  has  been  accustomed. 
But  I  am  willing  to  wait  and  eager  to  work.  In  youth  and 
health  and  a  fair  degree  of  education  I  have  some  capital 
in  addition  to  the  start  in  life  which  my  father  has  promised 
to  his  sons.  What  could  not  Miss  Hargrove  inspire  a  man 
to  do?" 

The  man  of  experience  smiled  in  spite  of  himself  at 
Burt's  frank  enthusiasm  and  naivete.  The  whole  affair  was 
so  different  from  anything  that  he  had  ever  looked  forward 
to!  Instead  of  a  few  formalities  between  himself  and  a 
wealthy  suitor  whom  his  wife,  and  therefore  all  the  world, 
would  approve  of,  here  he  was  listening  to  a  farmer's  son, 
•with  the  consciousness  that  he  must  yield,  and  not  wholly 
unwilling  to  do  so.  Moreover,  this  preposterous  young 
man,  so  far  from  showing  any  awe  of  him,  had  almost 
defied  him  from  the  start,  and  had  plainly  stated  that  the 
father's  wealth  was  the  only  objection  to  the  daughter. 
Having  seen  the  drift  of  events,  Mr.  Hargrove  had  long 
since  informed  himself  thoroughly  about  the  Clifford 
family,  and  had  been  made  to  feel  that  the  one  fact  of 


BURT   TELLS   HIS   LOVE   AGAIN  433 

his  wealth,  which  Burt  regretted,  was  almost  his  only 
claim  to  superiority.  Burt  was  as  transparent  as  a  moun 
tain  brook,  and  quite  as  impetuous.  The  gray-haired  man 
sighed,  and  felt  that  he  would  give  all  his  wealth  in  ex 
change  for  such  youth.  He  knew  his  daughter's  heart,  and 
felt  that  further  parleying  was  vain,  although  he  foresaw  no 
easy  task  in  reconciling  his  wife  to  the  match.  He  was  far 
from  being  heartbroken  himself,  however,  for  there  was 
such  a  touch  of  nature  in  Burt,  and  in  the  full,  strong 
love  waiting  to  reward  the  youth,  that  his  own  heart  was 
stirred,  and  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  he  knew  that  this  was 
better  than  giving  his  child  to  a  jaded  millionaire.  "I  have 
money  enough  for  both, "  he  thought.  "As  she  said,  she  is 
rich  enough  to  follow  her  heart.  It's  a  pity  if  we  can't 
afford  an  old-fashioned  love-match." 

Burt  was  respectfully  impatient  under  Mr.  Hargrove's 
deep-  thought  and  silence. 

At  last  the  father  arose  and  gave  hyn  his  hand,  saying: 
"You  have  been  honest  with  me,  and  that,  with  an  old  mer 
chant,  counts  for  a  great  deal.  I  also  perceive  you  love  my 
daughter  for  herself.  If  she  should  ever  inform  me  that 
you  are  essential  to  her  happiness  I  shall  not  withhold  my 
consent." 

Burt  seized  his  hand  with  a  grasp  that  made  it  ache,  as 
he  said,  "Every  power  I  have,  sir,  shall  be  exerted  that  you 
may  never  regret  this  kindness." 

"If  you  make  good  that  promise,  Mr.  Clifford,  I  shall 
become  your  friend  should  your  wooing  prove  successful. 
If  you  will  come  to  the  parlor  I  will  tell  Miss  Hargrove 
that  you  are  here. ' ' 

He  went  up  the  stairs  slowly,  feeling  that  he  was  crossing 
the  threshold  of  a  great  change.  How  many  thoughts  passed 
through  his  mind  as  he  took  those  few  steps!  He  saw  his 
child  a  little  black-eyed  baby  in  his  arms;  she  was  running 
before  him  trundling  her  hoop;  she  came  to  him  with  con 
tracted  brow  and  half-tearful  eyes,  bringing  a  knotty  sum 
in  fractions,  and  insisting  petulantly  that  they  were  very 

Vol.  1       aS 


434  NATURE'S  SERIAL   STORY 

"vulgar"  indeed;  she  hung  on  his  arm,  a  shy  girl  of  fifteen, 
blushingly  conscious  of  the  admiring  eyes  that  followed  her; 
she  stood  before  him  again  in  her  first  radiant  beauty  as  a 
debutante,  and  he  had  dreamed  of  the  proudest  alliance  that 
the  city  could  offer;  she  looked  into  his  eyes,  a  pale,  earnest 
woman,  and  said,  "Papa,  he  saved  my  life  at  the  risk  of  his 
own."  True,  true,  Mr.  Clifford  had  not  spoken  of  that, 
and  Mr.  Hargrove  had  not  thought  of  it  in  the  interview  so 
crowded  with  considerations.  His  heart  relented  toward  the 
youth  as  it  had  not  done  before.  Well,  well,  since  it  was 
inevitable,  he  was  glad  to  be  the  one  who  should  first  bring 
the  tidings  of  this  bold  wooer's  purpose.  "Trurie  will  never 
forget  this  moment,"  he  muttered,  as  he  knocked  at  her 
door,  "nor  my  part  in  her  little  drama."  O  love,  how  it 
craves  even  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  the  table  of  its  idol ! 

"Trurie, "  he  began,  as  he  entered,  "you  had  better  dress. 
Bless  me,  I  thought  you  were  packing!" 

"I— I  was." 

"You  were  expecting  some  one  ?  " 

"Mr.  Clifford  said  he  would  call — to  bid  me  good-by, 
I  suppose." 

"Was  that  all  you  supposed,  Trurie?" 

"Indeed,  papa,  I  told  him  I  was  going  to  town  to-morrow, 
and  he  asked  if  he  might  call." 

"Did  he  speak  of  his  object  ?" 

"No,  papa.  I'm  sure  it's  quite  natural  he  should  call, 
and  I  have  been  packing." 

"  Well,  I  can  assure  you  that  he  has  a  very  definite  ob 
ject.  He  has  asked  me  if  he  might  pay  his  addresses  to 
you,  and  in  the  same  breath  assured  me  that  he  would 
in  any  event." 

"Oh,  papa,"  she  said,  hiding  her  face  on  his  shoulder, 
"he  was  not  so  unmannerly  as  that!" 

"Indeed,  he  went  much  further,  declaring  that  he  would 
take  no  refusal  from  you,  either;  or,  rather,  that  he  would 
take  it  so  often  as  to  wear  out  your  patience,  and  secure  you 
by  proving  that  resistance  was  useless.  He  had  one  decided 


BURT   TELLS   HIS   LOVE   AGAIN  435 

fault  to  find  with  you,  also.  He  much  regrets  that  you  have 
wealth." 

"Oh,  papa,  tell  me  what  he  did  say;"  and  he  felt  her 
heart  fluttering  against  his  side  like  that  of  a  frightened 
bird. 

"Why,  Trurie,  men  have  offered  you  love  before." 

"But  I  never  loved  before,  nor  knew  what  it  meant," 
she  whispered.  "Please  don't  keep  me  in  suspense.  This 
is  all  so  strange,  so  sacred  to  me." 

"Well,  Trurie,  I  hope  your  match  may  be  one  of  those 
that  are  made  in  heaven.  Your  mother  will  think  it  any 
thing  but  worldly  wise.  However,  I  will  reconcile  her  to 
it,  and  I'm  glad  to  be  the  one  with  whom  you  will  associate 
this  day.  Long  after  I  am  gone  it  may  remind  you  how 
dear  your  happiness  was  to  me,  and  that  I  was  willing  to 
give  up  my  way  for  yours.  Mr.  Clifford  has  been  straight 
forward  and  manly,  if  not  conventional,  and  I've  told  him 
that  if  he  could  win  you  and  would  keep  his  promise  to  do 
his  best  fcr  you  and  by  you,  I  would  be  his  friend,  and  that, 
you  know,  means  much.  Of  course,  it  all  depends  upon 
whether  you  accept  him.  You  are  not  committed  in  the 
least." 

"Am  I  not,  papa?  Here  is  an  organ" — with  her  hand 
upon  her  heart — "that  knows  better.  But  I  shall  not  throw 
myself  at  him.  Must  I  go  down  now  ?" 

"Oh,  no,  I  can  excuse  you,"  he  said,  with  smiling  lips 
but  moist  eyes. 

"Dear  papa,  I  will,  indeed,  associate  you  with  this  hour 
and  every  pleasant  thing  in  life.  You  will  find  that  you 
have  won  me  anew  instead  of  losing  me;"  and  looking  back 
at  him  with  her  old  filial  love  shining  in  her  eyes,  she  went 
slowly  away  to  meet  the  future  under  the  sweet  constraint 
of  Nature's  highest  law. 

If  Burt  had  been  impatient  in  the  library,  he  grew  al 
most  desperate  in  the  parlor.  Horrible  doubts  and  fears 
crossed  his  mind.  Might  not  Miss  Hargrove's  pride  rise  in 
arms  against  him  ?  Might  she  not  even  now  be  telling  her 


NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

father  of  his  fickleness,  and  declaring  that  she  would  not 
listen  to  a  "twice-told  tale"?  Every  moment  of  delay 
seemed  ominous,  and  many  moments  passed.  The  house 
grew  sepulchral  in  its  silence,  and  the  wind  without  sighed 
and  moaned  as  if  Nature  foreboded  and  pitied  him  in  view 
of  the  overwhelming  misfortune  impending.  At  last  he 
sprang  up  and  paced  the  room  in  his  deep  perturbation. 
As  he  turned  toward  the  entrance  he  saw  framed  in  the 
doorway  a  picture  that  appeared  like  a  radiant  vision. 
Miss  Hargrove  stood  there,  looking  at  him  so  intently 
that,  for  a  second  or  two,  he  stood  spell-bound.  She  was 
dressed  in  some  white,  clinging  material,  and,  with  her 
brilliant  eyes,  appeared  in  the  uncertain  light  too  beauti 
ful  and  wraith- like  to  be  human.  She  saw  her  advantage, 
and  took  the  initiative  instantly.  "Mr.  Clifford,"  she 
exclaimed,  "do  I  seem  an  apparition?" 

"Yes,  you  do,"  he  replied,  coming  impetuously  toward 
her.  She  held  out  her  hand,  proposing  that  their  interview 
should  at  least  begin  at  arm's  length.  Nevertheless,  the 
soft  fire  in  his  eyes  and  the  flush  on  his  handsome  face 
made  her  tremble  with  a  delicious  apprehension.  Even 
while  at  a  loss  to  know  just  how  to  manage  the  prelimi 
naries  for  a  decorous  yielding,  she  exulted  over  the  flame- 
like  spirit  of  her  lover. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Clifford,"  she  cried,  "you  ought  to  know  that 
you  are  not  crushing  a  ghost's  hand." 

"Pardon  me.  What  I  meant  was  that  I  thought  I  had 
seen  you  before,  but  you  are  a  new  revelation  every  time 
I  see  you." 

"I  can't  interpret  visions." 

"Please  don't  say  that,  for  I  must  ask  you  to  interpret 
one  to-night.  What  does  Shakespeare  say  about  those  who 
have  power  ?  I  hope  you  will  use  yours  mercifully.  Oh, 
Miss  Hargrove,  you  are  so  beautiful  that  I  believe  I  should 
lose  my  reason  if  you  sent  me  away  without  hope." 

"Mr.  Clifford,  you  are  talking  wildly,"  was  her  faint 
response. 


BURT   TELLS   HIS   LOVE   AGAIN 

"I  fear  I  am.  I  am  almost  desperate  from  fear,  for 
I  have  a  terribly  hard  duty  to  perform." 

"Indeed!"  she  said,  withdrawing  her  hand,  which  he 
relinquished  most  reluctantly,  dreading  that  he  might  never 
rsceive  it  again. 

"Do  not  assume  that  attitude,  Miss  Hargrove,  or  I  shall 
lose  courage  utterly." 

"Truly,  Mr.  Clifford,"  she  said,  a  little  satirically,  seat 
ing  herself  on  a  sofa,  "I  never  imagined  you  deficient  in 
courage.  Is  it  a  terrible  duty  to  entertain  me  for  a  half- 
hour,  and  say  good- by?" 

"Yes.  Nothing  could  be  worse  than  that,  if  that  were 
all;"  and  he  looked  at  her  appealingly  and  in  such  per 
plexed  distress  that  she  laughed  outright. 

"I  am  very  much  in  earnest,  Miss  Hargrove." 

"You  are  very  enigmatical,  Mr.  Clifford.  Must  I  be 
present  while  you  perform  this  terrible  duty?" 

"I  think  you  know  what  I  must  confess  already,  and 
have  a  world  of  scorn  in  store  for  me.  Do  not  judge  me 
harshly.  Whatever  the  end  may  be,  and  my  sense  of  ill- 
desert  is  heavy  indeed,  I  shall  begin  on  the  basis  of  absolute 
truth.  You  shall  know  the  worst.  I've  asked  your  father 
for  the  privilege  of  winning  your  love;"  and  then  he  hesi 
tated,  not  knowing  how  to  go  on. 

"Is  that  the  worst?"  she  asked,  demurely. 

"No,  I  fear  it  will  be  the  best,  for  he  kindly  gave  his 
consent,  and  I  know  it  would  be  hard  for  him  to  do  as  much 
for  any  man,  much  more  so  for  one  not  wholly  to  his  mind. 
Miss  Hargrove,  I  must  appear  awkwardness  and  incoherency 
personified.  I  hardly  know  how  to  go  on.  I  shall  appear 
to  you  fickle  and  unmanly.  How  can  I  excuse  myself  to 
you  when  I  have  no  excuse  except  the  downright  truth  that 
I  love  you  better  than  my  life,  better  than  my  own  soul, 
better  than  all  the  world  and  everything  in  it  I  never 
knew  what  love  was  until  you  became  unconscious  in  my 
arms  on  the  mountain.  Forgive  me  for  referring  to  it.  I'm 
only  trying  to  explain  myself;  and  yet  I  had  thought  that 


438  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

I  knew,  and  had  spoken  words  of  love  to  your  friend,  Amy 
Winfield,  who  is  worthy  of  the  love  of  the  best  and  noblest 
man  that  ever  breathed.  She  did  not  welcome  my  words 
— they  only  wounded  her — and  she  has  never  cared  for  me 
except  as  a  true  and  gentle  sister  cares.  But  I  promised  to 
wait  till  she  did  care.  I  can't  keep  that  promise.  You  fas 
cinated  me  from  the  first  hour  of  our  meeting.  I  feel  now 
that  I  cherished  an  unworthy  purpose  toward  you.  I 
thought  that,  by  attentions  to  you,  I  could  make  Amy 
care;  I  thought  that  you  were  but  a  brilliant  society  girl; 
but  every  hour  I  spent  with  you  increased  my  admiration,  my 
respect;  I  saw  that  you  were  better  and  stronger  than  I  was. 
On  the  first  day  we  went  into  camp  on  the  mountain  I  saw 
whither  my  heart  was  leading  me,  and  from  that  hour  until 
to-day  I  have  tried  to  conquer  my  love,  feeling  that  I  had 
no  right  to  give  it,  that  you  would  despise  it  if  I  did.  You 
can't  have  any  confidence  in  me  now.  All  my  hope  is  that 
you  will  give  me  a  chance  to  prove  that  I  am  not  a  fickle 
wretch.  I  will  accept  of  any  probation,  I  will  submit  to 
any  terms.  I  can't  take  an  absolute  refusal  now,  for  I  feel 
you  are  seeing  me  at  my  worst,  and  I  know  that  you  could 
do  with  me  anything  you  pleased." 

Her  head  bowed  lower  and  lower  as  he  poured  out  these 
words  like  a  torrent.  "Does  Arny — have  you  told  her  that 
you  cannot  keep  your  promise  to  her?"  she  faltered,  in  a 
low  tone. 

"Oh,  yes,  I  told  her  so  a  few  hours  ago — since  I  met  you 
this  afternoon.  I  was  going  away  to  the  West,  like  a  cow 
ard,  to  escape  from  my  dilemma,  for  I  felt  you  would  never 
listen  to  me  after  you  knew  that  I  had  broken  my  word  to 
Amy.  I  feared  that  I  had  already  become  a  by-word  be 
tween  you  for  all  that  was  weak  and  fickle.  But  after  I  saw 
you  I  could  not  go  till  I  spoke.  I  determined  to  reveal  the 
whole  truth,  and  if  you  ever  gave  me  a  chance  to  retrieve 
myself,  gratitude  would  be  no  name  for  my  deep  feeling." 

"Did — did  Amy  release  you?" 

"Yes,  she  was  kindness  itself.    She  told  me  in  good  plain 


BURT   TEBLS   HIS   LOVE   AGAIN  439 

English  that  she  wanted  neither  me  nor  my  promise;  that 
she  didn't  think  that  she  ever  could  have  loved  me,  no  mat 
ter  how  long  I  might  have  waited.  But  I  could  not  look 
into  your  clear  eyes  and  say,  'I  love  you,'  and  know  that 
you  might  learn  from  her  or  any  one  that  I  had  said  this 
before.  If  you  won't  trust  me,  having  had  the  whole  truth, 
then  I  must  bear  my  hard  fate  as  best  I  can. ' ' 

"How  long  would  you  be  willing  to  wait  for  me?"  she 
asked,  in  tones  so  low  that  he  could  scarcely  catch  the  words. 

He  bounded  to  her  side,  and  took  her  unresisting  hand. 
"Oh,  Gertrude,"  he  pleaded,  "prove  me,  give  me  a  chance, 
let  me  show  that  I  am  not  without  manhood  and  constancy. 
Believe  me,  I  know  the  priceless  gift  I'm  asking,  but  what 
else  can  I  do  ?  I  have  tried  for  weeks  to  conquer  the  feel 
ing  you  have  inspired,  tried  with  all  the  help  that  pride  and 
sense  of  duty  and  honor  could  give,  but  it  has  been  utterly 
useless.  I  now  am  free;  I  have  the  right  to  speak.  I  have 
concealed  nothing  from  you.  I'm  wholly  at  your  mercy." 

At  last  she  raised  her  downcast  eyes  and  averted  face  to 
his,  and  for  a  moment  he  was  dazed  at  their  expression.  In 
tones  sweet,  low,  and  deep  with  her  strong  emotion,  she 
said,  "Burt,  how  glad  I  am  that  you  men  are  blind!  I 
found  out  that  I  loved  you  before  we  went  to  our  mountain 
camp."  She  sprang  up  and  gave  him  her  other  hand  as  she 
continued:  "Can  love  impose  such  hard  conditions  as  you 
suggest — months  of  doubtful  waiting  for  one  who  risked  his 
life  for  me  without  a  second's  hesitation  ?  That  is  not  my 
nature,  Burt.  If  I  have  power  over  you,  I  shall  show  it  in 
another  way." 

She  would  never  forget  his  look  as  he  listened  to  these 
words,  nor  his  humility  as  he  lowered  his  head  upon  her 
shoulder,  and  murmured,  "I  am  not  worthy  of  this."  It 
touched  the  deepest  and  tenderest  chord  in  her  heart.  His 
feeling  was  not  the  exultation  of  success,  but  a  gratitude  too 
deep  for  words,  and  a  half -conscious  appeal  that  she  would 
use  her  woman's  power  to  evoke  a  better  manhood.  It 
was  not  mere  acknowledgment  of  her  beauty,  or  the  impulse 


440  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

of  his  passion;  it  was  homage  to  the  best  and  noblest  part  of 
her  nature,  the  expression  of  his  absolute  trust.  Never  had 
she  received  such  a  tribute,  and  she  valued  it  more  than  if 
Burt  had  laid  untold  wealth  at  her  feet. 

A  great  joy  is  often  as  sobering  as  a  great  sorrow,  and 
they  talked  long  and  earnestly  together.  Gertrude  would 
not  become  engaged  until  she  had  told  her  mother,  and 
shown  her  the  respect  that  was  her  due.  "You  must  not 
be  resentful,"  the  young  girl  said,  "if  mamma's  consent  is 
not  easily  won.  She  has  set  her  heart  on  an  establishment 
in  town,  I've  set  my  heart  on  you;  so  there  we  differ,  and 
you  must  give  me  time  to  reconcile  her  to  a  different 
programme." 

The  clock  on  the  mantel  chimed  eleven,  and  Burt  started 
up,  aghast  at  the  flight  of  time.  Gertrude  stole  to  her  fa 
ther's  library,  and  found  that  he  was  pacing  the  floor. 
"I  should  not  have  left  him  alone  so  long  to-night,"  she 
thought,  with  compunction.  "Papa,"  she  said,  "Mr.  Clif 
ford  is  going.  Will  you  not  come  and  speak  to  him  ?" 

He  looked  into  his  daughter's  flushed,  happy  face,  and 
needed  no  further  explanation,  and  with  her  hands  on  his 
arm  he  went  to  the  drawing-room.  Burt  said  but  few  and 
very  simple  words,  and  the  keen  judge  of  men  liked  him 
beter  than  if  he  had  been  more  exuberant.  There  was  evi 
dence  of  downright  earnestness  now  that  seemed  a  revelation 
of  a  new  trait. 

"You  spoke  of  going  to  the  West  soon,"  Mr.  Hargrove 
remarked,  as  they  lingered  in  parting.  "Have  you  any 
objection  to  telling  me  of  your  purpose?" 

Burt  explained.  Mr.  Hargrove's  face  soon  expressed 
unusual  interest.  "I  must  talk  with  you  further  about 
this,"  he  said.  "I  have  land  in  the  same  locality,  and 
also  an  interest  in  the  railroad  to  which  you  refer.  Perhaps 
I  can  make  your  journey  of  mutual  service. ' ' 

"Oh,  papa,"  cried  his  daughter,  "you  are  my  good 
genius!"  for  she  well  understood  what  that  mutual  service 
meant. 


BURT   TELLS   HIS   LOVE   AGAIN  441 

After  Burt  had  gone,  Mr.  Hargrove  said,  "Well,  well, 
this  Western-land  business  puts  a  new  aspect  on  the  affair, 
and  mamma  may  have  little  ground  for  complaint.  It's  my 
impression  that  the  Cliffords  will  realize  a  very  respectable 
fortune  out  of  that  land." 

"Papa,"  said  the  young  girl,  "Burt  gave  me  something 
better  than  wealth  to-night — better  even  than  love,  in  the 
usual  sense  of  the  word.  He  gave  me  his  faith.  He  acted 
as  if  he  saw  in  me  the  power  to  help  him  to  be  a  true  man, 
and  what  higher  compliment  can  a  woman  receive  ?  He  did 
not  express  it  so  much  by  word  as  by  an  unconscious  man 
ner,  that  was  so  sincere  and  unpremeditated  that  it  thrilled 
my  very  soul.  "Oh,  papa,  you  have  helped  me  to  be  so 
very  happy !' ' 


442  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTEE  LYI 

WEBB'S  FOUR-LEAVED  CLOVER 

WEBB'S  silent  entrance  had  not  been  so  quiet  but 
that  Bart  heard  him.  Scarcely  had  he  gained  his 
room  before  the  younger  brother  knocked,  and 
followed  him  in  without  waiting.  "Where  have  you  been 
at  this  time  of  night?"  he  exclaimed.  "You  are  infring 
ing  on  ghostly  hours,  and  are  beginning  to  look  like  a 
ghost;"  for  Webb  had  thrown  himself  into  a  chair,  and  was 
haggard  from  the  exhaustion  of  his  long  conflict.  The  light 
and  kindly  way  in  which  he  answered  his  brother  proved 
that  he  was  victor. 

"Webb,"  said  Burt,  putting  his  hand  on  the  elder 
brother's  shoulder,  "you  saved  my  life  last  winter,  and 
life  has  become  of  immense  value  to  me.  If  you  had  not 
found  me,  I  should  have  missed  a  happiness  that  falls  to 
the  lot  of  few — a  happiness  of  which  all  your  science  can 
never  give  you,  you  old  delver,  even  an  idea.  I  meant  to 
tell  mother  and  father  first,  but  I  feel  to-night  how  much 
I  owe  to  your  brave,  patient  search,  and  I  want  your  con 
gratulations.  ' ' 

"I  think  you  might  have  told  father  and  mother  last 
night,  for  I  suppose  it's  morning  now." 

"I  did  not  get  home  in  time,  and  did  not  wish  to  excite 
mother,  and  spoil  her  rest. ' ' 

"Well,  then,  you  might  have  come  earlier  or  gone  later. 
Oh,  I  know  all  about  it.  I'm  not  blind." 

"By  Jove!  I  think  not,  if  you  know  all  about  what  I 
didn't  know,  and  could  scarcely  believe  possible  myself, 
till  an  hour  or  two  since." 


WEBB'S   FOUR-LEAVED    CLOVER  443 

"What  on  earth  are  you  driving  at  ?  I  think  you  might 
have  stayed  at  home  with  Amy  to-night,  of  all  times.  An 
accident,  Burt,  revealed  to  me  your  success,  and  I  do  con 
gratulate  you  most  sincerely.  You  have  now  the  truest  and 
loveliest  girl  in  the  world. ' ' 

"That's  true,  but  what  possible  accident  could  have  re 
vealed  the  fact  to  you?" 

"Don't  think  I  was  spying  upon  you.  From  the  top  of 
a  ladder  in  the  orchard  I  saw,  as  the  result  of  a  casual 
glance,  your  reward  to  Amy  for  words  that  must  have 
been  very  satisfactory." 

Burt  began  to  laugh  as  if  he  could  not  control  himself. 
"What  a  surprise  I  have  for  you  all!"  he  said.  I  went 
where  I  did  last  night  with  Amy's  full  knowledge  and 
consent.  She  never  cared  a  rap  for  me,  but  the  only  other 
girl  in  the  world  who  is  her  equal  does,  and  her  name  is 
Gertrude  Hargrove." 

Webb  gave  a  great  start,  and  sank  into  a  chair. 

"Don't  be  so  taken  aback,  old  fellow.  I  suppose  you 
and  the  rest  had  set  your  hearts  on  my  marrying  Amy. 
You  have  only  to  follow  Amy's  example,  and  give  me 
your  blessing.  Yes,  you  saw  me  give  Amy  a  very  grateful 
and  affectionate  greeting  last  evening.  She's  the  dearest 
little  sister  that  ever  a  man  had,  and  that's  all  she  ever 
wanted  to  be  to  me.  I  felt  infernally  mean  when  I  came  to 
her  yesterday,  for  I  was  in  an  awkward  strait.  I  had  prom 
ised  to  wait  for  her  till  she  did  care,  but  she  told  me  that 
there  was  no  use  in  waiting,  and  i  don't  believe  there  would 
have  been.  She  would  have  seen  some  one  in  the  future 
who  would  awaken  a  very  different  feeling  from  any  that 
I  could  inspire,  and  then,  if  she  had  promised  herself  to 
me,  she  would  have  been  in  the  same  predicament  that  I 
was.  She  is  the  best  and  most  sensible  little  girl  that  ever 
breathed,  and  feels  toward  me  just  as  she  does  toward  you, 
only  she  very  justly  thinks  you  have  forgotten  more  than 
I  ever  knew.  As  for  Gertrude —  Hang  it  all!  what's  the 
use  of  trying  to  explain?  You'll  say  I'm  at  my  old  tricks, 


444  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

but  I'm  not.  You've  seen  how  circumstances  have  brought 
us  together,  and  I  tell  you  my  eye  and  heart  are  filled  now 
for  all  time.  She  will  be  over  to-morrow,  and  I  want  her 
to  receive  the  greeting  she  deserves. ' ' 

The  affair  seemed  of  such  tremendous  importance  to 
Burt  that  he  was  not  in  the  least  surprised  that  Webb  was 
deeply  moved,  and  fortunately  he  talked  long  enough  to 
give  his  brother  time  to  regain  his  self-control.  Webb  did 
congratulate  him  in  a  way  that  was  entirely  satisfactory, 
and  then  bundled  him  out  of  the  room  in  the  most  sum 
mary  manner,  saying,  "Because  you  are  a  hare-brained 
lover,  you  shouldn't  keep  sane  people  awake  any  longer." 
It  were  hard  to  say,  however,  who  was  the  less  sane  that 
night,  Webb  or  Burt.  The  former  threw  open  his  window, 
and  gazed  at  the  moonlit  mountains  in  long,  deep  ecstasy. 
Unlike  Burt's,  his  more  intense  feeling  would  find  quiet 
expression.  All  he  knew  was  that  there  was  a  chance  for 
him — that  he  had  the  right  to  put  forth  the  best  effort  of 
which  he  was  capable — and  he  thanked  God  for  that.  At 
the  same  time  he  remembered  Amy's  parable  of  the  rose. 
He  would  woo  as  warily  as  earnestly.  With  Burt's  experi 
ence  before  his  eyes,  he  would  never  stun  her  with  sudden 
and  violent  declarations.  His  love,  like  sunshine,  would 
seek  to  develop  the  flower  of  her  love. 

He  was  up  and  out  in  the  October  dawn,  too  happy 
and  excited  for  sleep.  His  weariness  was  gone;  his  sinews 
seemed  braced  with  steel  as  he  strode  to  a  lofty  eminence. 
JNo  hue  on  the  richly  tinted  leaves  nor  on  the  rival  chrysan 
themums  was  brighter  than  his  hope,  and  the  cool,  pure 
air,  in  which  there  was  as  yet  no  frostiness,  was  like  exhil 
arating  wine.  From  the  height  he  looked  down  on  his 
home,  the  loved  casket  of  the  more  dearly  prized  jewel. 
He  viewed  the  broad  acres  on  which  he  had  toiled,  remem 
bering  with  a  dull  wonder  that  once  he  had  been  satisfied 
with  their  material  products.  Now  there  was  a  glamour 
upon  them,  and  upon  all  the  landscape.  The  river  gleamed 
and  sparkled;  the  mountains  flamed  like  the  plumage  of 


WEBB'S   FOUR-LEAVED    CLOVER  4.45 

some  tropical  bird.  The  world  was  transfigured.  The  earth 
and  his  old  materiality  became  the  foundation-stones  on 
which  his  awakened  mind,  kindled  and  made  poetic,  should 
rear  an  airy,  yet  enduring,  structure  of  beauty,  consecrated 
to  Amy.  He  had  loved  nature  before,  but  it  had  been  to 
him  like  a  palace  in  which,  as  a  dull  serving-man,  he  had 
employed  himself  in  caring  for  its  furniture  and  the  frames 
of  its  paintings.  But  he  had  been  touched  by  a  magic 
wand,  and  within  the  frames  glowed  ever-changing  pictures, 
and  the  furniture  was  seen  to  be  the  work  of  divine  art. 
The  palace  was  no  longer  empty,  but  enshrined  a  living 
presence,  a  lovely  embodiment  of  Nature's  purest  and  best 
manifestation.  The  development  of  no  flower  in  all  the 
past  summer  was  so  clear  to  him  as  that  of  the  girl  he 
loved.  He  felt  as  if  he  had  known  her  thoughts  from  child 
hood.  Her  young  womanhood  was  like  that  of  the  roses  he 
had  shown  to  her  in  the  dewy  June  dawn  that  seemed  so 
long  ago.  Burt  had  never  touched  her  heart.  It  was  still 
like  a  bud  of  his  favorite  mossrose,  wrapped  in  its  green 
calyx.  Oh,  what  a  wealth  of  fragrant  beauty  would  be  re 
vealed!  Now  it  might  be  revealed  to  him.  But  she  should 
waken  in  her  own  time;  and  if  he  had  not  the  power  to 
impart  the  deep,  subtile  impulse,  then  that  nearest  to  her, 
Nature,  should  be  his  bride. 

They  were  all  at  the  breakfast-table  when  he  returned, 
and  this  plotter  against  Amy's  peace  entered  and  greeted 
her  with  a  very  quiet  "  Grood- morning, "  but  he  laid  beside 
her  plate  a  four-leaved  clover  which  he  had  espied  on  his 
way  back. 

"Thanks,  Webb,"  she  said,  with  eyes  full  of  merriment; 
"I  foresee  an  amazing  amount  of  good  luck  in  this  little 
emblem.  Indeed,  I  feel  sure  that  startling  proofs  of  it  will 
occur  to-day;"  and  she  looked  significantly  at  Burt,  who 
laughed  very  consciously. 

"What  mischief  has  Burt  been  up  to,  Amy?"  Mrs. 
Clifford  asked.  "He  was  ready  to  explode  with  suppressed 
something  last  evening  at  supper,  and  now  he  is  effer- 


446  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

vescing  in  somewhat  different  style,  but  quite  as  remark 
ably.  You  boys  needn't  think  you  can  hide  anything  from 
mother  very  long;  she  knows  you  too  well." 

Both  Webb  and  Burt,  with  Amy,  began  to  laugh,  and 
they  looked  at  each  other  as  if  there  were  a  good  deal  that 
mother  did  not  know. 

"Webb  and  Amy  have  evidently  some  joke  on  Burt," 
remarked  Leonard.  "Webb  was  out  last  night,  and  I  bet 
a  pippin  he  caught  Burt  flirting  with  Miss  Hargrove." 

"Oh,  Burt!"  cried  Amy,  in  mock  indignation. 

"Nonsense!"  said  his  mother.  "Burt  is  going  to  settle 
down  now  and  be  steady.  We'll  make  him  sign  a  pledge 
before  he  goes  West,  won't  we,  Amy?" 

"Yes,  indeed,"  gasped  Amy,  almost  beside  herself  with 
merriment;  "he'll  have  to  sign  one  in  big  capitals." 

"Burt,"  said  his  father,  looking  at  him  over  his  spec 
tacles,  "you've  been  getting  yourself  into  some  scrape  as 
sure  as  the  world.  That's  right,  Amy;  you  laugh  at  him 
well,  and — " 

"A  truce!"  exclaimed  Burt.  "If  I'm  in  a  scrape,  I  don't 
propose  to  get  out  of  it,  but  rather  to  make  you  all  share  in 
it.  '  As  Amy  says,  her  four-leaved  clover  will  prove  a  true 
prophet,  green  as  it  looks.  I  now  beg  off,  and  shall  prove 
that  my  scrape  has  not  spoiled  my  appetite. ' ' 

"Well,"  said  Leonard,  "I  never  could  find  any  four- 
leaved  clovers,  but  I've  had  good  luck,  haven't  I,  Maggie?" 

"You  had  indeed,  when  you  came  courting  me." 

"How  about  Maggie's  luck?"  asked  Burt. 

"I  am  satisfied,"  began  Webb,  "that  I  could  develop 
acres  of  four-leaved  clover.  Some  plants  have  this  pecu 
liarity.  I  have  counted  twenty-odd  on  one  root.  If  seed 
from  such  a  plant  were  sown,  and  then  seed  selected  again 
from  the  new  plants  most  characterized  by  this  'sport,'  I 
believe  the  trait  would  become  fixed,  and  we  could  have 
a  field  of  four-leaved  clover.  New  varieties  of  fruits,  vege 
tables,  arid  flowers  are  often  thus  developed  from  chance 
'sports'  or  abnormal  specimens." 


WEBB'S    FOUR-LEAVED    CLOVER  447 

"Just  hear  Webb,"  said  Amy.  "He  would  turn  this 
ancient  symbol  of  fortune  into  a  marketable  commodity." 

"Pardon  me;  I  was  saying  what  might  be  done,  not 
what  I  proposed  to  do.  1  found  this  emblem  of  good 
chance  by  chance,  and  I  picked  it  with  the  'wish'  attacked 
to  the  stem.  Thus  to  the  utmost  I  have  honored  the  super 
stition,  and  you  have  only  to  make  your  wish  to  carry  it 
out  fully." 

"My  wishes  are  in  vain,  and  all  the  four-leaved  clovers 
in  the  world  wouldn't  help  them.  I  wish  I  was  a  scientific 
problem,  a  crop  that  required  great  skill  to  develop,  a  rare 
rose  that  all  the  rose-maniacs  were  after,  a  new  theory  that 
required  a  great  deal  of  consideration  and  investigation,  and 
accompanied  with  experiments  that  needed  much  obser 
vation,  and  any  number  of  other  t-i-o-n-shuns.  Then  I 
shouldn't  be  left  alone  evenings  by  the  great  inquiring  mind 
of  the  family.  Burt's  going  away,  and,  as  his  father  says, 
has  got  into  a  scrape;  so  what's  to  become  of  me?" 

They  all  arose  from  the  table  amid  general  laughter,  of 
which  Webb  and  Burt  were  equally  the  objects,  and  on  the 
faces  of  those  not  in  the  secret  there  was  much  perplexed 
curiosity. 

"Good  gracious!"  exclaimed  Maggie,  "if  Webb  should 
concentrate  his  mind  on  you  as  you  suggest,  it  would  end 
by  his  falling  in  love  with  you." 

This  speech  was  received  with  shouts  of  merriment,  and 
Amy  felt  the  color  rushing  into  her  face,  but  she  scouted 
the  possibility.  "The  idea  of  Webb's  falling  in  love  with 
any  one!"  she  cried.  "I  should  as  soon  expect  to  see  old 
Storm  King  toppling  over." 

"Still  waters  run — "  began  Maggie,  but  a  sudden  flash 
from  Webb's  eyes  checked  her. 

"Deep,  do  they?"  retorted  Amy.  "Some  still  waters 
don't  run  at  all.  Not  for  the  world  would  I  have  Webb 
incur  the  dreadful  risk  that  you  suggest." 

"I  think  I'm  almost  old  enough  to  take  care  of  myself, 
sister  Amy,  and  I  promise  you  to  try  to  be  as  entertaining 


448  NATURE'S    SERIAL    STORY 

as  such  an  old  fellow  can  be.  As  to  falling  in  love  with 
you,  that  happened  long  ago — the  first  evening  you  came, 
when  you  stood  in  the  doorway  blushing  and  frightened  at 
the  crowd  of  your  new  relations." 

"Haven't  I  got  over  being  afraid  of  them  remarkably  ? 
I  never  was  a  bit  afraid  of  you  even  at  first.  It  took  me 
a  long  time,  however,  to  find  out  how  learned  you  were, 
and  what  deep  subjects  are  required  to  interest  you.  Alas, 
I  shall  never  be  a  deep  subject." 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  putting  his  arm 
around  her,  "you  have  come  like  sunshine  into  the  old 
home,  and  we  old  people  can't  help  wishing  you  may  never 
go  out  of  it  while  we  are  alive." 

"I'm  not  a  bit  jealous,  Amy,"  said  Maggie. 

"I  think  it's  time  this  mutual  admiration  society  broke 
up, ' '  the  young  girl  said,  with  tears  trembling  in  her  eyes. 
"When  I  think  of  it  all,  and  what  a  home  I've  found,  I'm 
just  silly  enough  to  cry.  I  think  it's  time,  Burt,  that  you 
obtained  your  father's  and  mother's  forgiveness  or  blessing, 
or  whatever  it  is  to  be. ' ' 

"You  are  right,  Amy,  as  you  always  are.  Mother,  will 
you  take  my  arm  ?  and  if  you  will  accompany  us,  sir  (to  his 
father),  you  shall  learn  the  meaning  of  Amy's  four-leaved 
clover. ' ' 

"You  needn't  think  you  are  going  to  get  Amy  without 
my  consent,"  Leonard  called  after  him.  "I've  known  her 
longer  than  any  of  you — ever  since  she  was  a  little  girl  at 
the  depot. ' ' 

Amy  and  Webb  began  laughing  so  heartily  at  the  speaker 
that  he  went  away  remarking  that  he  could  pick  apples  if 
he  couldn't  solve  riddles. 

"Come  up  to  my  room,  Amy,"  said  Maggie,  excitedly. 

"No,  no,  Mother  Eve,  I  shall  go  to  my  own  room,  and 
dress  for  company." 

"Oh,  I  guess  your  secret!"  cried  Maggie.  "Burt  said 
something  more  than  good-by  to  Miss  Hargrove  last  even 
ing." 


WEBB'S   FOUR-LEAVED    CLOVER  449 

Amy  would  not  answer,  and  the  sound  of  a  mirthful 
snatch  of  song  died  musically  away  in  the  distance. 

"Now,  Mr.  Webb,"  Maggie  resumed,  "what  did  you 
mean  by  that  ominous  flash  from  your  cavern- like  eyes?" 

"It  meant  that  Amy  has  probably  been  satisfied  with 
one  lover  in  the  family  and  its  unexpected  result.  I  don't 
wish  our  relations  embarrassed  by  the  feeling  that  she  must 
be  on  her  guard  against  another." 

"Oh,  1  see,  you  don't  wish  her  to  be  on  her  guard." 

"Dear  Maggie,  whatever  you  may  see,  appear  blind. 
Heaven  only  knows  what  you  women  don't  see." 

"That's  good  policy,  Webb.  I'll  be  your  ally  now. 
I've  suspected  you  for  some  time,  but  thought  Burt  and 
Amy  were  committed  to  each  other. ' ' 

"Amy  does  not  suspect  anything,  and  she  must  not. 
She  is  not  ready  for  the  knowledge,  and  may  never  be. 
All  the  help  I  ask  is  to  keep  her  unconscious.  I've  been 
expecting  you  would  find  me  out,  for  you  married  ladies 
have  had  an  experience  which  doubles  your  insight,  and 
I'm  glad  of  the  chance  to  caution  you.  Amy  is  happy  in 
loving  me  as  a  brother.  She  shall  never  be  unhappy  in  this 
home  if  I  can  prevent  it." 

Maggie  entered  heart  and  soul  into  Webb's  cause,  for  he 
was  a  great  favorite  with  her.  He  was  kind  to  her  children, 
and  in  a  quiet  way  taught  them  almost  as  much  as  they 
learned  at  school.  He  went  to  his  work  with  mind  much 
relieved,  for  she  and  his  mother  were  the  only  ones  that  he 
feared  might  surmise  his  feeling,  and  by  manner  or  remark 
reveal  it  to  Amy,  thus  destroying  their  unembarrassed  rela 
tions,  and  perhaps  his  chance  to  win  the  girl's  heart. 


450  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  LVII 

OCTOBER  HUES   AND   HARVESTS 

BURT'S  interview  with  his  parents,  their  mingled  sur 
prise,  pleasure,  and  disappointment,  and  their  deep 
sympathy,  need  not  be  dwelt  upon.  Mr.  Clifford 
was  desirous  of  first  seeing  Amy,  and  satisfying  himself 
that  she  did  not  in  the  slightest  degree  feel  herself  slighted 
or  treated  in  bad  faith,  but  his  wife,  with  her  low  laugh, 
said:  "Rest  assured,  father,  Burt  is  right.  He  has  won 
nothing  more  from  Amy  than  sisterly  love,  though  I  had 
hoped  that  he  might  in  time.  After  all,  perhaps,  it  is  best. 
We  shall  keep  Amy,  and  gain  a  new  daughter  that  we  have 
already  learned  to  admire  and  love." 

Hurt's  mind  was  too  full  of  the  one  great  theme  to  re 
member  what  Mr.  Hargrove  had  said  about  the  Western 
land,  and  when  at  last  Miss  Hargrove  came  to  say  good-by, 
with  a  blushing  consciousness  quite  unlike  her  usual  self- 
possession,  he  was  enchanted  anew,  and  so  were  all  the 
household.  The  old  people's  reception  seemed  like  a 
benediction;  Amy  banished  the  faintest  trace  of  doubt 
by  her  mirthful  ecstasies;  and  after  their  mountain  ex 
perience  there  was  no  ice  to  break  between  Gertrude  and 
Maggie. 

The  former  was  persuaded  to  defer  her  trip  to  New  York 
until  the  morrow,  and  so  Amy  would  have  her  nutting  ex 
pedition  after  all.  When  Leonard  came  down  to  dinner, 
Burt  took  Gertrude's  hand,  and  said,  "Now,  Len,  this  is 
your  only  chance  to  give  your  consent.  You  can't  have 
any  dinner  till  you  do. ' ' 


OCTOBER   HUES  AND   HARVESTS  451 

His  swift,  deprecating  look  at  Amy's  laughing  face  re 
assured  him.  "Well,"  he  said,  slowly,  as  if  trying  to  com 
prehend  it  all,  "I  do  believe  I'm  growing  old.  My  eyesight 
must  be  failing  sadly.  When  did  all  this  take  place?" 

"Your  eyesight  is  not  to  blame,  Leonard,"  said  his  wife, 
with  much  superiority.  "It's  because  you  are  only  a  man." 

"That's  all  I  ever  pretended  to  be."  Then,  with  a  dig 
nity  that  almost  surprised  Gertrude,  he,  as  eldest  brother, 
welcomed  her  in  simple,  heartfelt  words. 

At  the  dinner- table  Miss  Hargrove  referred  to  the  West 
ern  land.  Burt  laid  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  ex 
claimed,  "1  declare,  I  forgot  all  about  it!" 

Miss  Hargrove  laughed  heartily  as  she  said,  "A  high 
tribute  to  me!"  and  then  made  known  her  father's  state 
ment  that  the  Clifford  tract  in  the  West  adjoined  his  own, 
that  it  would  soon  be  very  valuable,  and  that  he  was  inter 
ested  in  the  railroad  approaching  it.  "I  left  him,"  she  con 
cluded,  "poring  over  his  maps,  and  he  told  me  to  say  to 
you,  sir"  (to  Mr.  Clifford),  "that  he  wished  to  see  you 
soon." 

"How  about  the  four-leaved  clover  now?"  cried  Amy. 

In  the  afternoon  they  started  for  the  chestnut-trees. 
Webb  carried  a  light  ladder,  and  both  he  and  Bart  had 
dressed  themselves  in  close-fitting  flannel  suits  for  climb 
ing.  The  orchard,  as  they  passed  through  it,  presented  a 
beautiful  autumn  picture.  Great  heaps  of  yellow  and  red 
cheeked  apples  were  upon  the  ground;  other  varieties  were 
in  barrels,  some  headed  up  and  ready  for  market,  while  Mr. 
Clifford  was  giving  the  final  cooperage  to  other  barrels  as 
fast  as  they  were  filled. 

"Father  can  still  head  up  a  barrel  better  than  any  of  us," 
Leonard  remarked  to  Miss  Hargrove. 

"Well,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  "I've  had  over 
half  a  century's  experience." 

"It's  time  I  obtained  some  idea  of  rural  affairs,"  said 
Gertrude  to  Webb.  "There  seem  to  be  many  different 
kinds  of  apples  here.  Can  you  easily  tell  them  apart?" 


452  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

"Yes,  as  easily  as  you  know  different  dress  fabrics  at 
Arnold's.  Those  umbrella- shaped  trees  are  Ehode  Island 
greenings;  those  that  are  rather  long  and  slender  branching 
are  yellow  bell-flowers;  and  those  with  short  and  stubby 
branches  and  twigs  are  the  old-fashioned  dominies.  Over 
there  are  Newtown  pippins.  Don' t  you  see  how  green  the 
fruit  is  ?  It  will  not  be  in  perfection  till  next  March.  Not 
only  a  summer,  but  an  autumn  and  a  winter  are  required  to 
perfect  that  superb  apple,  but  then  it  becomes  one  of  Na 
ture's  triumphs.  Some  of  those  heaps  on  the  ground  will 
furnish  cider  and  vinegar.  Nuts,  cider,  and  a  wood  fire  are 
among  the  privations  of  a  farmer's  life." 

"Farming,  as  you  carry  it  on,  appears  to  me  a  fine  art. 
How  very  full  some  of  the  trees  are!  and  others  look  as  if 
they  had  been  half  picked  over. ' ' 

"That  is  just  what  has  been  done.  The  largest  and 
ripest  apples  are  taken  off  first,  and  the  rest  of  the  fruit 
improves  wonderfully  in  two  or  three  weeks.  By  this  course 
we  greatly  increase  both  the  quality  and  the  balk  of  the 
crop." 

"You  are  very  happy  in  your  calling,  Webb.  How 
strange  it  seems  for  me  to  be  addressing  you  as  "Webb!" 

"It  does  not  seem  so  strange  to  me;  nor  does  it  seem 
strange  that  I  am  talking  to  you  in  this  way.  I  soon  recog 
nized  that  you  were  one  of  those  fortunate  beings  in  whom 
city  life  had  not  quenched  nature." 

They  had  fallen  a  little  behind  the  others,  and  were  out 
of  ear-shot. 

"I  think,"  she  said,  hesitatingly  and  shyly,  "that  I  had 
an  ally  in  you  all  along. ' ' 

He  laughed  and  replied,  "At  one  time  I  was  very  dubi 
ous  over  my  expedition  to  Fort  Putnam." 

"I  imagine  that  in  suggesting  that  expedition  you  put  in 
two  words  for  yourself." 

"Call  it  even,"  he  said. 

"I  wish  you  might  be  as  happy  as  I  am.  I'm  not  blind 
either,  and  I  wonder  that  Amy  is  so  unconscious." 


OCTOBER   HUES  AND   HARVESTS  453 

"I  hope  she  will  remain  so  until  she  awakens  as  naturally 
as  from  sleep.  She  has  never  had  a  brother,  and  as  such  I 
try  to  act  toward  her.  My  one  thought  is  her  happiness, 
and,  perhaps,  I  can  secure  it  in  no  other  way.  I  feared  long 
since  that  you  had  guessed  my  secret,  and  am  grateful  that 
you  have  not  suggested  it  to  Amy.  Few  would  have  shown 
so  much  delicacy  and  consideration." 

"I'm  not  sure  that  you  are  right,  Webb.  If  Amy  knew 
of  your  feeling,  it  would  influence  her  powerfully.  She 
misjudges  you  now." 

"Yes,  it  was  necessary  that  she  should  misunderstand 
me,  and  think  of  me  as  absorbed  in  things  remote  from  her 
life.  The  knowledge  you  suggest  might  make  her  very  sad, 
for  there  never  was  a  gentler- hearted  girl.  You  have  remark 
able  tact.  Please  use  it  to  prevent  the  constraint  which 
might  arise  between  us." 

Burt  now  joined  them  with  much  pretended  jealousy,  and 
they  soon  reached  the  trees,  which,  under  the  young  men's 
vigorous  blows,  rained  down  the  prickly  burrs,  downy 
chestnuts,  and  golden  leaves.  Blue  jays  screamed  indig 
nantly  from  the  mountain-side,  and  squirrels  barked  their 
protest  at  the  inroads  made  upon  their  winter  stores.  As 
the  night  approached  the  air  grew  chilly,  and  Webb  re 
marked  that  frost  was  coming  at  last.  He  hastened  home 
before  the  others  to  cover  up  certain  plants  that  might  be 
sheltered  through  the  first  cold  snap.  The  tenderer  ones 
had  long  since  been  taken  up  and  prepared  for  winter 
blooming. 

To  Amy's  inquiry  where  Johnnie  was,  Maggie  had  re 
plied  that  she  had  gone  nutting  by  previous  engagement 
with  Mr.  Alvord,  and  as  the  party  returned  in  the  glowing 
evening  they  met  the  oddly  assorted  friends  with  their 
baskets  well  filled.  In  the  eyes  of  the  recluse  there  was  a 
gentler  expression,  proving  that  Johnnie's  and  Nature's 
ministry  had  not  been  wholly  in  vain.  He  glanced  swiftly 
from  Burt  to  Miss  Hargrove,  then  at  Amy,  and  a  faint  sug 
gestion  of  a  smile  hovered  about  his  mouth.  He  was  about 


454  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

to  leave  them  abruptly  when  Johnnie  interposed,  pleading: 
"Mr.  Alvord,  don't  go  home  till  I  pick  you  some  of  your 
favorite  heart's-ease,  as  you  call  my  pansies.  They  have 
grown  to  be  as  large  and  beautiful  as  they  were  last  spring. 
Do  you  know,  in  the  hot  weather 'they  were  almost  as  small 
as  johnny-jumpers  ?  but  I  wouldn't  let  'em  be  called  by  that 
name."' 

"They  will  ever  be  heart's-ease  to  me,  Johnnie — doubly 
so  when  you  give  them,"  and  he  followed  her  to  the  garden. 

In  the  evening  a  great  pitcher  of  cider  fresh  from  the 
press,  flanked  by  dishes  of  golden  fall  pippins  and  grapes, 
was  placed  on  the  table.  The  young  people  roasted  chest 
nuts  on  hickory  coals,  and  every  one,  even  to  the  invalid, 
seemed  to  glow  with  a  kindred  warmth  and  happiness.  The 
city  belle  contrasted  the  true  home-atmosphere  with  the 
grand  air  of  a  city  house,  and  thanked  God  for  her  choice. 
At  an  early  hour  she  said  good -by  for  a  brief  time  and  de 
parted  with  Burt.  He  was  greeted  with  stately  courtesy  by 
Mrs.  Hargrove  herself,  whom  her  husband  and  the  prospec 
tive  value  of  the  Western  land  had  reconciled  to  the  mo 
mentous  event.  Burt  and  Gertrude  were  formally  engaged, 
and  he  declared  his  intention  of  accompanying  her  to  the 
city  to  procure  the  significant  diamond. 

After  the  culminating  scenes  of  Burt's  little  drama,  life 
went  on  very  serenely  and  quietly  at  the  Clifford  home. 
Out  of  school  hours  Alf,  Johnnie,  and  Ned  vied  with  the 
squirrels  in  gathering  their  hoard  of  various  nuts.  The 
boughs  in  the  orchard  grew  lighter  daily.  Frost  came  as 
Webb  had  predicted,  and  dahlias,  salvias,  and  other  flowers, 
that  had  flamed  and  glowed  till  almost  the  middle  of  Octo 
ber,  turned  black  in  one  morning's  sun.  The  butternut- 
trees  had  lost  their  foliage,  and  countless  leaves  were  flut 
tering  down  in  every  breeze  like  many-hued  gems.  The 
richer  bronzed  colors  of  the  oak  were  predominating  in  the 
landscape,  and  only  the  apple,  cherry,  and  willow  trees 
about  the  house  kept  up  the  green  suggestion  of  summer. 


THE   MOONLIGHT   OMEN  455 


CHAPTER  LVIII 

THE   MOONLIGHT   OMEN 

WEBB  permitted  no  marked  change  in  his  manner. 
He  toiled  steadily  with  Leonard  in  gathering  the 
fall  produce  and  in  preparing  for  winter,  but 
Amy  noticed  that  his  old  preoccupied  look  was  passing 
away.  Daily  he  appeared  to  grow  more  genial  and  to  have 
more  time  and  thought  for  her.  With  increasing  wonder 
she  learned  the  richness  and  fulness  of  his  mind.  In  the 
evenings  he  read  aloud  to  them  all  with  his  strong,  musical 
intonation,  in  which  the  author's  thought  was  emphasized 
so  clearly  that  it  seemed  to  have  double  the  force  that  it 
possessed  when  she  read  the  same  words  herself.  He  found 
time  for  occasional  rambles  and  horseback  excursions,  and 
was  so  companionable  during  long  rainy  days  that  they 
seemed  to  her  the  brightest  of  the  week.  Maggie  smiled  to 
herself  and  saw  that  Webb's  spell  was  working.  He  was 
making  himself  so  quietly  and  unobtrusively  essential  to 
Amy  that  she  would  find  half  of  her  life  gone  if  she  were 
separated  from  him. 

Gertrude  returned  for  a  short  time,  and  then  went  to  the 
city  for  the  winter.  Burt's  orbit  was  hard  to  calculate.  He 
was  much  in  New  York,  and  often  with  Mr.  Hargrove,  from 
whom  he  was  receiving  instructions  in  regard  to  his  West 
ern  expedition.  That  gentleman's  opinion  of  Burt's  busi 
ness  capacity  grew  more  favorable  daily,  for  the  young  fel 
low  now  proposed  to  show  that  he  meant  to  take  life  in 
earnest.  "If  this  lasts  he  will  make  a  trusty  young  lieu 
tenant,"  the  merchant  thought,  "and  I  can  make  his  for- 


456  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

tune  while  furthering  mine."  Burt  had  plenty  of  brains 
and  good  executive  ability  to  carry  out  the  wiser  counsels 
of  others,  while  his  easy,  vivacious  manner  won  him  friends 
and  acceptance  everywhere. 

It  was  arranged,  after  his  departure,  that  Amy  should 
visit  her  friend  in  the  city,  and  Webb  looked  forward  to 
her  absence  with  dread  and  self -depreciation,  fearing  that 
he  should  suffer  by  contrast  with  the  brilliant  men  of 
society,  and  that  the  quiet  country  life  would  seem  dull, 
indeed,  thereafter. 

Before  Amy. went  on  this  visit  there  came  an  Indian 
summer  morning  in  November,  that  by  its  soft,  dreamy 
beauty  wooed  every  one  out  of  doors.  "Amy,"  said  Webb, 
after  dinner,  "suppose  we  drive  over  to  West  Point  and  re 
turn  by  moonlight."  She  was  delighted  with  the  idea,  and 
they  were  soon  slowly  ascending  the  mountain.  He  felt 
that  this  was  his  special  opportunity,  not  to  break  her 
trustful  unconsciousness,  but  to  reveal  his  power  to  interest 
her  and  make  impressions  that  should  be  enduring.  He  ex 
erted  every  faculty  to  please,  recalling  poetic  and  legendary 
allusions  connected  with  the  trees,  plants,  and  scenes  by 
which  they  were  passing. 

"Oh,  Webb,  how  you  idealize  nature!"  she  said.  "You 
make  every  object  suggest  something  fanciful,  beautiful,  or 
entertaining.  How  have  you  learned  to  do  it?" 

"As  I  told  you  last  Easter  Sunday — how  long  ago  it 
seems — if  I  have  any  power  for  such  idealization  it  is 
largely  through  your  influence.  My  knowledge  was  much 
like  the  trees  as  they  then  appeared.  I  was  prepared  for 
better  things,  but  the  time  for  them  had  not  yet  come. 
I  had  studied  the  material  world  in  a  material  sort  of  way, 
employing  my  mind  with  facts  that  were  like  the  bare 
branches  and  twigs.  You  awakened  in  me  a  sense  of  the 
beautiful  side  of  nature.  How  can  I  explain  it  ?  Who  can 
explain  the  rapid  development  of  foliage  and  flowers  when 
all  is  ready  ?' ' 

"But,  Webb,  you  appeared,  during  the  summer,  to  go 


THE   MOONLIGHT   OMEN  457 

back  to  your  old  materiality  worse  than  ever.  You  made 
me  feel  that  I  had  no  power  to  do  anything  for  you.  You 
treated  me  as  if  I  were  your  very  little  sister  who  would 
have  to.  go  to  school  a  few  years  before  I  could  be  your 
companion." 

"Those  were  busy  days,"  he  replied,  laughing.  "Be- 
sides,"  he  added,  hesitatingly,  "Burt  was  at  one  time  in 
clined  to  be  jealous.  Of  course,  it  was  very  absurd  in  him, 
but  I  suppose  lovers  are  always  a  little  absurd." 

"I  should  think  it  was  absurd.  I  saw  whither  Burt  was 
drifting  long  ago — at  the  time  of  the  great  flood  which  swept 
away  things  of  more  value  than  my  silly  expectations. 
What  an  unsophisticated  little  goose  I  was!  I  suppose 
Johnnie  expects  to  be  married  some  day,  and  in  much  the 
same  way  I  looked  forward  to  woman's  fate;  and  since  you 
all  seemed  to  wish  that  it  should  be  Burt,  I  thought,  'Why 
not?'  Wasn't  it  lucky  for  Burt,  and,  indeed,  for  all  of 
you,  that  I  was  not  a  grown-up  and  sentimental  young 
woman  ?  Mr.  Hargrove,  by  uniting  his  interests  with  yours 
in  the  West,  will  make  your  fortunes,  and  Burt  will  bring 
you  a  lovely  sister.  It  pleases  me  to  see  how  Gertrude  is 
learning  to  like  you.  I  used  to  be  provoked  with  her  at 
first,  because  she  didn't  appreciate  you.  Do  you  know, 
I  think  you  ought  to  write  ?  You  could  make  people  fall 
in  love  with  nature.  Americans  don't  care  half  as  much 
for  out-door  life  and  pursuits  as  the  English.  It  seems 
to  me  that  city  life  cannot  compare  with  that  of  the 
country." 

"You  may  think  differently  after  you  have  been  a  few 
weeks  in  Gertrude's  elegant  home." 

They  had  paused  again  on  the  brow  of  Cro1  Nest,  and 
were  looking  out  on  the  wide  landscape.  "No,  Webb,"  she 
said;  "her  home,  no  doubt,  is  elegant,  but  it  is  artificial. 
This  is  simple  and  grand,  and  to-day,  seen  through  the  soft 
haze,  is  lovely  to  me  beyond  all  words.  I  honestly  half 
regret  that  I  am  going  to  town.  Of  course,  I  shall  enjoy 
myself — I  always  do  with  Gertrude — but  the  last  few  quiet 

Vol.  1       aT 


458  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

weeks  have  been  so  happy  and  satisfying  that  I  dread  any 
change. ' ' 

"Think  of  the  awful  vacuum  that  your  absence  will 
make  in  the  old  home!" 

"Well,  I'm  a  little  glad;  I  want  to  be  missed.  But  I 
shall  write  to  you  and  tell  you  of  all  the  frivolous  things 
we  are  doing.  Besides,  you  must  come  to  see  me  as  often 
as  you  can. ' ' 

'"I  certainly  shall." 

They  saw  evening  parade,  the  moon  rising  meanwhile 
over  Sugarloaf  Mountain,  and  filling  the  early  twilight  with 
a  soft  radiance.  The  music  seemed  enchanting,  for  their 
hearts  were  attuned  to  it.  As  the  long  line  of  cadets  shifted 
their  guns  from  "carry  arms"  to  "shoulder  arms"  with  in 
stantaneous  action,  Webb  said  that  the  muskets  sent  out 
a  shivering  sound  like  that  of  a  tree  almost  ready  to  fall 
under  the  last  blows  of  an  axe. 

Webb  felt  that  should  he  exist  millions  of  ages  he  should 
never  forget  the  ride  homeward.  The  moon  looked  through 
the  haze  like  a  veiled  beauty,  and  in  its  softened  light 
Amy's  pure,  sweet  profile  was  endowed  with  ethereal 
beauty.  The  beech  trees,  with  their  bleached  leaves  still 
clinging  to  them,  were  almost  spectral,  and  the  oaks  in 
their  bronzed  foliage  stood  like  black  giants  by  the  road 
side.  There  were  were  suggestive  vistas  of  light  and  shadow 
that  were  full  of  mystery,  making  it  easy  to  believe  that  on 
a  night  like  this  the  mountain  was  haunted  by  creatures 
as  strange  as  the  fancy  could  shape.  The  girl  at  his  side 
was  a  mystery.  Viewless  walls  incased  her  spirit.  What 
were  her  hidden  and  innermost  thoughts?  The  supreme 
gift  of  a  boundless  love  overflowed  his  heart  to  his  very 
lips.  She  was  so  near,  and  the  spell  of  her  loveliness  so 
strong,  that  at  times  he  felt  that  he  must  give  it  expression, 
but  he  ever  restrained  himself.  His  words  might  bring 
pain  and  consternation  to  the  peaceful  face.  She  was  alone 
with  him,  and  there^  would  be  no  escape  should  he  speak 
now.  No;  he  had  resolved  to  wait  till  her  heart  awoke  by 


THE    MOONLIGHT   OMEN  459 

its  own  impulses,  and  he  would  keep  his  purpose  even^ 
through  the  witchery  of  that  moonlight  drive.  "How 
strangely  isolated  we  are,"  he  thought,  "that  such  feeling 
as  mine  can  fill  my  very  soul  with  its  immense  desire,  and 
she  not  be  aware  of  anything  but  my  quiet,  fraternal 
manner!" 

As  they  were  descending  the  home  slope  of  the  moun 
tain  they  witnessed  a  rare  and  beautiful  sight.  A  few  light 
clouds  had  gathered  around  the  moon,  and  these  at  last 
opened  in  a  rift.  The  rays  of  light  through  the  misty  at 
mosphere  created  the  perfect  colors  of  a  rainbow,  and  this 
phenomenon  took  the  remarkable  form  of  a  shield,  its  base 
resting  upon  one  cloud,  and  its  point  extending  into  a  little 
opening  in  the  cloud  above. 

"Oh,  what  a  perfect  shield!"  cried  Amy.  "Was  there 
ever  anything  so  strange  and  lovely?" 

Webb  checked  his  horse,  and  they  looked  at  the  vision 
with  wonder.  "I  never  saw  anything  to  equal  that,"  said 
Webb. 

"Is  it  an  omen,  Webb  ?"  she  asked,  turning  a  little  from 
him  that  she  might  look  upward,  and  leaning  on  his  shoul 
der  with  the  unconsciousness  of  a  child. 

"Let  us  make  it  one,  dear  sister  Amy,"  he  said,  draw 
ing  her  nearer  to  him.  "Let  it  remind  you,  as  you  recall 
it,  that  as  far  as  I  can  1  will  ever  shield  you  from  every  evil 
of  life. "  As  he  spoke  the  rainbow  colors  became  wonder 
fully  distinct,  and  then  faded  slowly  away.  Her  head 
drooped  lower  on  his  shoulder,  and  she  said,  dreamily: 

"It  seems  to  me  that  I  never  was  so  happy  before  in  my 
life  as  I  am  now.  You  are  so'different,  and  can  be  so  much 
to  me,  now  that  your  old  absurd  constraint  is  gone.  Oh, 
Webb,  you  used  to  make  me  so  unhappy !  You  made  me 
feel  that  you  had  found  me  out — how  little  I  knew,  and 
that  it  was  a  bore  to  have  to  talk  with  me  and  explain.  I 
know  I'm  not  highly  educated.  How  could  I  be?  I  went 
everywhere  with  papa,  and  he  always  appeared  to  think  of 
me  as  a  little  girl.  And  then  during  the  last  year  or  two 


460  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

of  his  life  he  was  so  ill  that  I  did  not  do  much  else  than 
watch  over  him  with  fear  and  trembling,  and  try  to  nurse 
him  and  beguile  the  hours  that  were  so  full  of  pain  and 
weakness.  But  I'm  not  contented  to  be  ignorant,  and  you 
can  teach  me  so  much.  I  fairly  thrill  with  excitement  and 
feeling  sometimes  when  you  are  reading  a  fine  or  beautiful 
thing.  If  I  can  feel  that  way  I  can't  be  stupid,  can  I?" 

"No,  Amy." 

"Think  how  much  faster  I  could  learn  this  winter  if 
you  would  direct  my  reading,  and  explain  what  is  ob 
scure!" 

"I  will  very  gladly  do  anything  you  wish.  You  under 
rate  yourself,  Amy.  You  have  woman's  highest  charm. 
There  is  a  stupidity  of  heart  which  is  far  worse  than  that 
of  the  mind,  a  selfish  callousness  in  regard  to  others  and 
their  rights  and  feelings,  which  mars  the  beauty  of  some 
women  worse  than  physical  deformity.  From  the  day  you 
entered  our  home  as  a  stranger,  graceful  tact,  sincerity,  and 
the  impulse  of  ministry  have  characterized  your  life.  Can 
you  imagine  that  mere  cleverness,  trained  mental  acuteness, 
and  a  knowledge  of  facts  can  take  the  place  of  these  traits? 
No  man  can  love  unless  he  imagines  that  a  woman  has  these 
qualities,  and  bitter  will  be  his  disappointment  if  he  finds 
them  wanting. ' ' 

Her  laugh  rang  out  musically  on  the  still  air.  "Hear 
the  old  bachelor  talk!"  she  cried.  "I  believe  you  have 
constructed  an  ideally  perfect  creature  out  of  nature,  and 
that  you  hold  trysts  with  her  on  moonlight  nights,  you  go 
out  to  walk  so  often  alone.  Well,  well,  I  won't  be  jealous 
of  such  a  sister-in-law,  but  1  want  to  keep  you  a  little  while 
longer  before  you  follow  Burt's  example. ' ' 

"I  shall  never  give  you  a  sister-in-law,  Amy." 

"You  don't  know  what  you'll  do.  How  sure  Burt  was 
of  himself!" 

"Burt  and  I  are  different." 

"Yes,  Webb,  you  are.  If  you  ever  love,  it  will  be  for 
always;  and  I  don't  like  to  think  of  it.  I'd  like  to  keep 


THE   MOONLIGHT  OMEN  461 

you  just  as  you  are.  Now  that  you  see  how  selfish  I  am, 
where  is  woman's  highest  charm  ?" 

Webb  laughed,  and  urged  his  horse  into  a  sharp  trot. 
"I  am  unchangeable  in  my  opinions  too,  as  far  as  you  are 
concerned,"  he  remarked.  "She  is  not  ready  yet,"  was  his 
silent  thought. 

When  she  came  down  to  the  late  supper  her  eyes  were 
shining  with  happiness,  and  Maggie  thought  the  decisive 
hour  had  come;  but  in  answer  to  a  question  about  the  drive, 
Amy  said,  "I  couldn't  have  believed  that  so  much  enjoy 
ment  was  to  be  had  in  one  afternoon.  Webb  is  a  brother 
worth  having,  and  I'm  sorry  I'm  going  to  New  York." 

"Am  I  not  a  brother  worth  having?"  Leonard  asked. 

"Oh,  you  are  excellent,  as  far  as  you  go,  but  you  are  so 
wrapped  up  in  Maggie  that  you  are  not  of  much  account; 
and  as  for  Burt,  he  is  more  over  head  and  ears  than  you 
are.  Even  if  a  woman  was  in  love,  I  should  think  she 
would  like  a  man  to  be  sensible." 

"Pshaw,  Amy!  you  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about,"  said  Maggie. 

"Probably  not.  I  suppose  it  is  a  kind  of  disease,  and 
that  all  are  more  or  less  out  of  their  heads." 

"We've  been  out  of  our  heads  a  good  many  years, 
mother,  haven't  we?"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  laughing. 

"Well,"  said  Leonard,  "I  just  hope  Amy  will  catch  the 
disease,  and  have  it  very  bad  some  day. ' ' 

"Thank  you.      When  I  do,  I'll  send  for  Dr.  Marvin." 

A  few  days  later  Webb  took  her  to  New  York,  and  left 
her  with  her  friend.  "Don't  be  persuaded  into  staying  very 
long,"  he  found  opportunity  to  say,  in  a  low  tone. 

"Indeed  I  won't;  I'm  homesick  already;"  and  she  looked 
after  him  very  wistfully.  But  she  was  mistaken.  Gertrude 
looked  so  hurt  and  disappointed  when  she  spoke  of  return 
ing,  and  had  planned  so  much,  that  days  lengthened  into 
weeks. 


NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 


CHAPTER  LIX 

THE   ROSE   EEVEALS  ITS   HEART 

WEBB  returned  to  a  region  that  was  haunted. 
Wherever  he  went,  a  presence  was  there  before 
him.  In  every  room,  on  the  lawn,  in  the  garden, 
in  lanes  no  longer  shaded,  but  carpeted  with  brown,  rustling 
leaves,  on  mountain  roads,  he  saw  Amy  with  almost  the 
vividness  of  actual  vision,  as  he  had  seen  her  in  these  places 
from  the  time  of  her  first  coming.  At  church  he  created 
her  form  in  her  accustomed  seat,  and  his  worship  was  a 
little  confused.  She  had  asked  him  to  write,  and  he  made 
home  life  and  the  varying  aspects  of  nature  real  to  her. 
His  letters,  however,  were  so  impersonal  that  she  could 
read  the  greater  part  of  them  to  Gertrude,  who  had  resolved 
to  be  pleased  out  of  good- will  to  Webb,  and  with  the  inten 
tion  of  aiding  his  cause.  But  she  soon  found  herself  ex 
pressing  genuine  wonder  and  delight  at  their  simple,  vigor 
ous  diction,  their  subtile  humor,  and  the  fine  poetic  images 
they  often  suggested.  "Oh,  Amy,"  she  said,  "I  couldn't 
have  believed  it.  1  don't  think  he  himself  is  aware  of  his 
power  of  expression." 

"He  has  read  and  observed  so  much,"  Amy  replied, 
"that  he  has  much  to  express." 

"It's  more  than  that,"  said  Gertrude;  "there  are  touches 
here  and  there  which  mere  knowledge  can't  account  for. 
They  have  a  delicacy  and  beauty  which  seem  the  result 
of  woman's  influence,  and  I  believe  it  is  yours.  I  should 
think  you  would  be  proud  of  him." 

"lam,"  she  answered,  with  exultation  and  heightened 


THE   ROSE   REVEALS   ITS   HEART  463 

color,  "but  it  seems  absurd  to  suppose  that  such  a  little 
ignoramus  as  I  am  can  help  him  much." 

Meanwhile,  to  all  appearance,  Webb  maintained  the  even 
tenor  of  his  way.  He  had  been  so  long  schooled  in  patience 
that  he  waited  and  hoped  on  in  silence  as  before,  and  busied 
himself  incessantly.  The  last  of  the  corn  was  husked,  and 
the  golden  treasure  stored.  The  stalks  were  stacked  near 
the  barn  for  winter  use,  and  all  the  labors  of  the  year  were 
rounded  out  and  completed.  Twice  he  went  to  the  city  to 
see  Amy,  and  on  one  of  these  occasions  he  was  a  guest  at  a 
large  party  given  in  her  honor.  During  much  of  the  even 
ing  he  was  dazzled  by  her  beauty,  and  dazed  by  her  sur 
roundings.  Her  father  had  had  her  instructed  carefully  in 
dancing,  and  she  and  Burt  had  often  waltzed  together,  but 
he  could  scarcely  believe  his  eyes  as  she  appeared  on  the 
floor  unsurpassed  in  beauty  and  grace,  her  favor  sought  by 
all.  Was  that  the  simple  girl  who  on  the  shaggy  sides  of 
Storm  King  had  leaned  against  his  shoulder? 

Miss  Hargrove  gave  him  little  time  for  such  musings. 
She,  as  hostess,  often  took  his  arm  and  made  him  useful. 
The  ladies  found  him  reserved  rather  than  shy,  but  he  was 
not  long  among  the  more  mature  and  thoughtful  men  pres 
ent  before  a  knot  gathered  around  him,  and  some  of  Mr. 
Hargrove's  more  intimate  friends  ventured  to  say,  "There 
seems  to  be  plenty  of  brains  in  the  family  into  which  your 
daughter  is  to  enter." 

After  an  hour  or  two  had  passed,  and  Amy  had  not  had 
a  chance  to  speak  to  him,  he  began  to  look  so  disconsolate 
that  she  came  and  whispered,  "What's  the  matter,  old 
fellow?" 

"Oh,  Amy,"  he  replied,  discontentedly,  "I  wish  we 
were  back  on  Storm  King.  I'm  out  of  place  here." 

"So  do  I,"  she  said,  "and  so  we  will  be  many  a  time 
again.  But  you  are  not  out  of  place  here.  I  heard  one 
lady  remarking  how  'reserved  and  distingue1  you  were,  and 
another,"  she  added,  with  a  flash  of  her  ever- ready  mirth- 
fulness,  "said  you  were  'deliciously  homely.'  I  was  just 


464  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

delighted  with  that  compliment,"  and  she  flitted  away  to 
join  her  partner  in  the  dance.  Webb  brightened  up  amaz 
ingly  after  this,  and  before  he  departed  in  the  "wee  sma' 
hours,"  when  the  rooms  were  empty,  Gertrude  gave  him  a 
chance  for  a  brief,  quiet  talk,  which  proved  that  Amy's 
heart  was  still  in  the  Highlands,  even  if  he  did  not  yet 
possess  it. 

Burt  would  not  return  till  late  in  December;  but  Amy 
came  home  about  the  middle  of  the  month,  and  received  an 
ovation  that  was  enough  "to  turn  any  one's  head,"  she  de 
clared.  Their  old  quiet  life  was  resumed,  and  "Webb  watched 
keenly  for  any  discontent  with  it.  Her  tranquil  satisfaction 
was  undoubted.  "I've  had  my  little  fling,"  she  said,  "and 
I  suppose  it  was  time  I  saw  more  of  the  world  and  society, 
but  oh,  what  a  refuge  and  haven  of  rest  the  old  place  is! 
Gertrude  is  lovely,  her  father  very  gallant  and  polite,  but 
Mrs.  Hargrove's  stateliness  oppresses  me,  and  in  society  I 
felt  that  I  had  to  take  a  grain  of  salt  with  everything  said 
to  me.  Gertrude  showed  her  sense  in  preferring  a  home. 
I  was  in  some  superb  houses  in  the  city  that  did  not  seem 
like  homes." 

Webb,  in  his  solicitude  that  the  country-house  should 
not  appear  dull,  found  time  to  go  out  with  her  on  pleasant 
days,  and  to  interest  her  deeply  in  a  course  of  reading.  It 
was  a  season  of  leisure;  but  his  mother  began  to  smile  to 
herself  as  she  saw  how  absorbed  he  was  in  his  pupil. 

The  nights  grew  colder,  the  stars  gained  a  frosty  glitter, 
the  ground  was  rock-like,  and  the  ponds  were  covered  with 
a  glare  of  black  ice.  Amy  was  eager  to  learn  to  skate,  and 
Webb  found  his  duty  of  instructor  delightful.  Little  danger 
of  her  falling,  although,  with  a  beginner's  awkwardness,  she 
essayed  to  do  so  often;  strong  arms  were  ever  near  and  ready, 
and  any  one  would  have  been  glad  to  catch  Amy  in  such 
peril. 

They  were  now  looking  forward  to  Burt's  return  and 
the  holiday  season,  which  Gertrude  would  spend  with 
them.  Mystery  lurked  behind  every  door.  Not  merely 


THE    ROSE    REVEALS    ITS    HEART  465 

the  shops,  but  busy  and  stealthy  fingers,  would  furnish 
the  gifts.  Webb  had  bought  his  present  for  Amy,  but 
had  also  burned  the  midnight  oil  in  the  preparation  of  an 
other — a  paper  for  a  magazine,  and  it  had  been  accepted. 
He  had  planned  and  composed  it  while  at  work  stripping 
the  husks  from  the  yellow  corn,  superintending  the  wood 
teams  and  the  choppers  in  the  mountain,  and  aiding  in 
cutting  from  an  adjacent  pond  the  crystal  blocks  of  ice — 
the  stored  coolness  for  the  coming  summer.  Then  while 
others  thought  him  sleeping  he  wrote  and  rewrote  the 
thoughts  he  had  harvested  during  the  day. 

One  of  his  most  delightful  tasks,  however,  was  in  aid 
ing  Amy  to  embower  the  old  house  in  wreaths  and  festoons 
of  evergreens.  The  rooms  grew  into  aromatic  bowers.  Au 
tumn  leaves  and  ferns  gave  to  the  heavier  decorations  a 
light,  airy  beauty  which  he  had  never  seen  before.  Grace 
itself  Amy  appeared  as  she  mounted  the  step-ladder  and 
reached  here  and  there,  twining  and  coaxing  everything 
into  harmony. 

What  was  the  effect  of  all  this  companionship  on  her 
mind?  She  least  of  all  could  have  answered:  she  did  not 
analyze.  Each  day  was  full  and  joyous.  She  was  being 
carried  forward  on  a  shining  tide  of  happiness,  and  yet  its 
motion  was  so  even,  quiet,  and  strong  that  there  was  noth 
ing  to  disturb  her  maidenly  serenity.  If  Webb  had  been 
any  one  but  Webb,  and  if  she  had  been  in  the  habit  of  re 
garding  all  men  as  possible  admirers,  she  would  have  un 
derstood  herself  long  before  this.  If  she  had  been  brought 
up  with  brothers  in  her  own  home  she  would  have  known 
that  she  welcomed  this  quiet  brother  with  a  gladness  that 
had  a  deeper  root  than  sisterly  affection.  But  the  fact  that 
he  was  Webb,  the  quiet,  self -controlled  man  who  had  called 
her  sister  Amy  for  a  year,  made  his  presence,  his  deep  sym 
pathy  with  her  and  for  her,  seem  natural.  His  approaches 
had  been  so  gradual  that  he  was  stealing  into  her  heart  as 
spring  enters  a  flower.  You  can  never  name  the  first  hour 
of  its  presence;  you  take  no  note  of  the  imperceptible  yet 


466  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

steady  development.  The  process  is  quiet,  yet  vital  and 
sure,  and  at  last  there  comes  an  hour  when  the  bud  is  ready 
to  open.  That  time  was  near,  and  Webb  hoped  that  it  was. 
His  tones  were  now  and  then  so  tender  and  gentle  that  she 
looked  at  him  a  little  wonderingly,  but  his  manner  was 
quiet  and  far  removed  from  that  of  the  impetuous  Burt. 
There  was  a  warmth  in  it,  however,  like  the  increasing 
power  of  the  sun,  and  in  human  hearts  bleak  December  can 
be  the  spring-time  as  truly  as  May. 

It  was  the  twenty-third — one  of  the  stormiest  days  of  a 
stormy  month.  The  snowflakes  were  whirling  without, 
and  making  many  a  circle  in  the  gale  before  joining  their 
innumerable  comrades  that  whitened  the  ground.  The  wind 
sighed  and  soughed  about  the  old  house  as  it  had  done  a 
year  before,  but  Webb  and  Amy  were  armed  against  its 
mournfulness.  They  were  in  the  parlor,  on  whose  wide 
hearth  glowed  an  ample  fire.  Burt  and  Gertrude  were  ex 
pected  on  the  evening  train. 

"Gertie  is  coming  home  through  the  snow  just  as  I 
did,"  said  Amy,  fastening  a  spray  of  mistletoe  that  a 
friend  had  sent  her  from  England  to  the  chandelier; 
"and  the  same  old  warm  welcome  awaits  her." 

"What  a  marvellous  year  it  has  been!"  Webb  remarked. 

"It  has,  indeed.  Just  think  of  it!  Burt  is  engaged  to 
one  of  whose  existence  he  did  not  know  a  year  ago.  He 
has  been  out  West,  and  found  that  you  have  land  that  will 
make  you  all  rich." 

"'Are  these  the  greatest  marvels  of  the  year,  Amy  ?" 

"No,  there  is  a  greater  one.  I  didn't  know  you  a  year 
ago  to-day,  and  now  I  seem  to  have  known  you  always,  you 
great  patient,  homely  old  fellow — 'deliciously  homely. '  I 
shall  never  get  over  that." 

"The  eyes  of  scores  of  young  fellows  looked  at  you  that 
evening  as  if  you  were  deliciously  handsome." 

"And  you  looked  at  me  one  time  as  if  you  hadn't  a  friend 
in  the  world,  and  you  wanted  to  be  back  in  your  native 
wilds." 


THE   ROSE   REVEALS   ITS   HEART  467 

"Not  without  you,  Amy;  and  you  said  you  wished  you 
were  looking  at  the  rainbow  shield  with  me  again." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  say  all  that;  and  then  I  saw  you  needed 
heartening  up  a  little." 

"I  did  indeed.  You  were  dancing  with  a  terrible  swell, 
worth,  it  was  said,  half  a  million,  who  was  devouring  you 
with  his  eyes." 

"I'm  all  here,  thank  you,  and  you  look  as  if  you  were 
doing  some  devouring  yourself.  What  makes  you  look  at 
me  so  ?  Is  there  anything  on  my  face  ?" 

"Yes,  some  color,  but  it's  just  as  Nature  arranged  it,  and 
you  know  Nature's  best  work  always  fascinates  me." 

"What  a  gallant  you  are  becoming!  There,  don't  you 
think  that  is  arranged  well  ?"  and  she  stood  beneath  the 
mistletoe  looking  up  critically  at  it. 

"Let  me  see  if  it  is,"  and  he  advanced  to  her  side. 
"This  is  the  only  test,"  he  said,  and  quick  as  a  flash  he 
encircled  her  with  his  arm  and  pressed  a  kiss  upon  her  lips. 

She  sprang  aloof  and  looked  at  him  with  dilating  eyes. 
He  had  often  kissed  her  before,  and  she  had  thought  noth 
ing  more  of  it  than  of  a  brother's  salute.  Was  it  a  subtile, 
mysterious  power  in  the  mistletoe  itself  with  which  it  had 
been  endowed  by  ages  of  superstition  ?  Was  that  kiss  like 
the  final  ray  of  the  June  sun  that  opens  the  heart  of  the  rose 
when  at  last  it  is  ready  to  Expand  ?  She  looked  at  him  won- 
deringly,  tremblingly,  the  color  of  the  rose  mounting  higher 
and  higher,  and  deepening  as  if  the  blood  were  coming  from 
the  depths  of  her  heart.  He  did  not  speak.  In  answer  to 
her  wondering,  questioning  look,  he  only  bent  full  upon  her 
his  dark  eyes  that  had  held  hers  once  before  in  a  moment  of 
terror.  She  saw  his  secret  in  their  depths  at  last,  the  devo 
tion,  the  love,  which  she  herself  had  unsuspectingly  said 
would  "last  always."  She  took  a  faltering  step  toward 
him,  then  covered  her  burning  face  with  her  hands. 

"Amy,"  he  said,  taking  her  gently  in  his  arms,  "do  you 
understand  me  now  ?  Dear,  blind  little  girl,  I  have  been 
worshipping  all  these  months,  and  you  have  not  known  it." 


468  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

"I — I  thought  you  were  in  love  with  nature,"  she  -whis 
pered. 

"So  I  am,  and  you  are  nature  in  its  sweetest  and  high 
est  embodiment.  Every  beautiful  thing  in  nature  has  long 
suggested  you  to  me.  Amy,  I  can  wait.  You  shall  have 
your  girlhood.  It  seems  to  me  now  that  I  have  loved  you 
almost  from  the  first  hour  I  saw  you.  I  have  known  that  I 
loved  you  ever  since  that  June  evening  when  you  left  me  in 
the  rose  garden.  Have  I  not  proved  that  I  can  be  patient 
and  wait?" 

She  only  pressed  her  burning  face  closer  upon  his  shoul 
der.  "It's  all  growing  clear  now,"  she  again  whispered. 
"How  blind  I've  been!  I  thought  you  were  only  my 
brother." 

"I  can  be  'only  your  brother,'  if  you  so  wish,"  he  said, 
gravely.  "Your  happiness  is  my  first  thought." 

She  looked  up  at  him  shyly,  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  a 
smile  hovering  about  her  tremulous  lips.  "1  don't  think 
I  understood  myself  any  better  than  I  did  you.  I  never 
had  a  brother,  and — and — I  don't  believe  I  loved  you  just 
right  for  a  brother;"  and  her  face  was  hidden  again. 

His  eyes  went  up  to  heaven,  as  if  he  meant  that  his  mat 
ing  should  be  recognized  there.  Then  gently  stroking  her 
brown  hair,  he  asked,  "Then  I  shan't  have  to  wait,  Amy  ?" 

"Am  I  keeping  you  waiting,  Webb?"  she  faltered  from 
her  deep  seclusion. 

"Oh,  that  blessed  mistletoe  I"  cried  Webb,  lifting  the 
dewy,  flower-like  face  and  kissing  it  again  and  again. 
"You  are  my  Christmas  gift,  Amy." 

"Oh,  I  beg  your  pardon;  I  didn't  know,"  began  Mr. 
Clifford  from  the  doorway,  and  was  about  to  make  a  hasty 
and  excited  retreat. 

"Stay,  father!"  cried  Webb.  "A  year  ago  you  received 
this  dear  girl  as  your  daughter.  She  has  consented  to  make 
the  tie  closer  still  if  possible." 

The  old  gentleman  took  Amy  in  his  arms  for  a  moment, 
and  then  said,  "This  is  too  good  to  keep  to  myself  for  a  mo- 


THE   ROSE    REVEALS   ITS   HEART  469 

ment,"  and  he  hastened  the  blushing,  laughing  girl  to  his 
wife,  and  exclaimed,  "See  what  I've  brought  you  for  a 
Christmas  present.  See  what  that  sly,  silent  Webb  has 
been  up  to.  He  has  been  making  love  to  our  Amy  right 
under  our  noses,  and  we  didn't  know  it." 

"  You  didn't  know  it,  father;  mother's  eyes  are  not  so 
blind.  Amy,  darling,  I've  been  hoping  and  praying  for 
this.  You  have  made  a  good  choice,  my  dear,  if  it  is  his 
mother  that  says  it.  Webb  will  never  change,  and  he  will 
always  be  as  gentle  and  good  to  you  as  he  has  been  to  me." 

"Well,  well,  well,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  "our  cup  is  run 
ning  over,  sure  enough.  Maggie,  come  here,"  he  called, 
as  he  heard  her  step  in  the  hall.  "Here  is  a  new  relative. 
I  once  felt  a  little  like  grumbling  because  we  hadn't  a 
daughter,  and  now  I  have  three,  and  the  best  and  prettiest 
in  the  land.  You  didn't  know  what  Webb  was  about." 

"Didn't  I,  Webb — as  long  ago  as  last  October,  too?" 

"Oh,  Webb,  you  ought  to  have  told  me  first,"  said 
Amy,  reproachfully,  when  they  were  alone. 

"I  did  not  tell  Maggie;  she  saw,"  Webb  answered. 
Then,  taking  a  rosebud  which  she  had  been  wearing,  he 
pushed  open  the  petals  with  his  finger,  and  asked,  "Who 
told  me  that  'this  is  no  way  for  a  flower  to  bloom'  ?  I've 
watched  and  waited  till  your  heart  was  ready,  Amy."  And 
so  the  time  flew  in  mutual  confidences,  and  the  past  grew 
clear  when  illumined  by  love. 

"Poor  old  Webb!"  said  Amy,  with  a  mingled  sigh  and 
laugh.  "There  you  were  growing  as  gaunt  as  a  scarecrow, 
and  I  loving  you  all  the  time.  What  a  little  goose  I  was! 
If  you  had  looked  at  Gertrude  as  Burt  did  I  should  have 
found  myself  out  long  ago.  Why  hadn't  you  the  sense  to 
employ  Burt's  tactics?" 

"Because  I  had  resolved  that  nature  should  be  my  sole 
ally.  Was  not  my  kiss  under  the  mistletoe  a  better  way  of 
awakening  my  sleeping  beauty  than  a  stab  of  jealousy  ?' ' 

"Yes,  Webb,  dear,  patient  Webb.  The  rainbow  shield 
was  a  true  omen,  and  I  am  sheltered  indeed." 


470  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 


CHAPTER  LX 

CHRISTMAS   LIGHTS  AND   SHADOWS 

LEONARD  had  long  since  gone  to  the  depot,  and  now 
the  chimes  of  his  returning  bells  announced  that  Burt 
and  Gertrude  were  near.  To  them  both  it  was  in 
truth  a  coming  home.  Gertrude  rushed  in,  followed  by  the 
exultant  Burt,  her  brilliant  eyes  and  tropical  beauty  ren 
dered  tenfold  more  effective  by  the  wintry  twilight  without; 
and  she  received  a  welcome  that  accorded  with  her  nature. 
She  was  hardly  in  Amy's  room,  which  she  was  to  share, 
before  she  looked  in  eager  scrutiny  at  her  friend.  "  What's 
in  the  air?"  she  asked.  "What  has  transfigured  Webb? 
Oh,  you  little  wild-flower,  you've  found  out  that  he  is  say 
ing  his  prayers  to  you  at  last,  have  you  ?  Evidently  he 
hasn't  said  them  in  vain.  You  are  very  happy,  dear?" 

"Yes,  happier  than  you  are." 

"I  deny  that  point-blank.  Oh,  Amy  darling,  I  was  true 
to  you  and  didn't  lose  Burt  either." 

Maggie  had  provided  a  feast,  and  Leonard  beamed  on 
the  table  and  on  every  one,  when  something  in  Webb  and 
Amy's  manner  caught  his  attention.  "This  occasion,"  he 
began,  "reminds  me  of  a  somewhat  similar  one  a  year  ago 
to-morrow  night.  It  is  my  good  fortune  to  bring  lovely 
women  into  this  household.  My  first  and  best  effort  was 
made  when  I  brought  Maggie.  Then  I  picked  up  a  little 
girl  at  the  depot,  and  she  grew  into  a  tall,  lovely  creature 
on  the  way  home,  didn't  she,  Johnnie?  And  now  to-night 
I've  brought  in  a  princess  from  the  snow,  and  one  of  these 
days  poor  Webb  will  be  captured  by  a  female  of  the  Mac- 


CHRISTMAS  LIGHTS   AND   SHADOWS  471 

Stinger  type,  for  he  will  never  muster  up  courage  enough — 
What  on  earth  are  you  all  laughing  about?" 

"Thank  you,"  said  Amy,  looking  like  a  peony. 

"You  had  better  put  your  head  under  Maggie's  wing  and 
subside,"  "Webb  added.  Then,  putting  his  arm  about  Amy, 
he  asked,  "Is  this  a  female  of  the  MacStinger  type?" 

Leonard  stared  in  blank  amazement.  "Well,"  said  he, 
at  last,  "when  did  this  happen  ?  I  give  up  now.  The  times 
have  changed.  When  I  was  courting,  the  whole  neighbor 
hood  was  talking  about  it,  and  knew  I  was  accepted  long 
before  I  did.  Did  you  see  all  this  going  on,  Maggie?" 

"Certainly,"  she  answered. 

"Now,  I  don't  believe  Amy  saw  it  herself,"  cried  Leon 
ard,  half  desperately,  and  laughter  broke  out  anew. 

"Oh,  Amy,  I'm  so  glad!"  said  Burt,  and  he  gave  her 
the  counterpart  of  the  embrace  that  had  turned  the  bright 
October  evening  black  to  Webb. 

"To  think  that  Webb  should  have  got  such  a  prize!" 
ejaculated  Leonard.  "Well,  well,  the  boys  in  this  family 
are  in  luck." 

"It  will  be  my  turn  next,"  cried  Johnnie. 

"No,  sir;  I'm  the  oldest,"  Alf  protested. 

"Let's  have  supper,"  Ned  remarked,  removing  his  thumb 
from  his  mouth. 

"Score  one  for  Ned,"  said  Burt.  "There  is  at  least  one 
member  of  the  family  whose  head  is  not  turned  by  all  these 
marvellous  events. ' ' 

Can  the  sunshine  and  fragrance  of  a  June  day  be  photo 
graphed?  No  more  can  the  light  and  gladness  of  that  long, 
happy  evening  be  portrayed.  Mrs.  Clifford  held  Gertrude's 
hand  as  she  had  Amy's  when  receiving  her  as  a  daughter. 
The  beautiful  girl,  whose  unmistakable  metropolitan  air  was 
blended  with  gentle  womanly  grace,  had  a  strong  fascination 
for  the  invalid.  She  kindled  the  imagination  of  the  recluse, 
and  gave  her  a  glimpse  into  a  world  she  had  never  known. 

"Webb,"  said  Amy,  as  they  were  parting  for  the  night, 
"I  can  see  a  sad,  pale  orphan  girl  clad  in  mourning.  I  can 


472  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

see  you  kissing  her  for  the  first  time.  Don't  you  remem 
ber?  I  had  a  strange  little  thrill  at  heart  then,  and  you 
said,  'Come  to  me,  Amy,  when  you  are  in  trouble.'  There 
is  one  thing  that  troubles  me  to-night.  All  whom  I  so 
dearly  love  know  of  my  happiness  but  papa.  I  wish  he 
knew." 

"Tell  it  to  him,  Amy,"  he  answered,  gently,  "and  tell 
it  to  God." 

There  were  bustle  and  renewed  mystery  on  the  following 
day.  Astonishing-looking  packages  were  smuggled  from 
one  room  to  another.  Ned  created  a  succession  of  panics, 
and  at  last  the  ubiquitous  and  garrulous  little  urchin  had  to 
be  tied  into  a  chair.  Johnnie  and  Alf  were  in  the  seventh 
heaven  of  anticipation,  and  when  Webb  brought  Amy  a 
check  for  fifty  dollars,  and  told  her  that  it  was  the  proceeds 
of  his  first  crop  from  his  brains,  and  that  she  must  spend 
the  money,  she  went  into  Mr.  Clifford's  room  waving  it  as 
if  it  were  a  trophy  such  as  no  knight  had  ever  brought 
to  his  lady-love. 

"Of  course,  I'll  spend  it,"  she  cried.  "1  know  just  how 
to  spend  it.  It  shall  go  into  books  that  we  can  read  to 
gether.  What's  that  agricultural  jargon  of  yours,  Webb, 
about  returning  as  much  as  possible  to  the  soil?  We'll 
return  this  to  the  soil,"  she  said,  kissing  his  forehead, 
"although  I  think  it  is  too  rich  for  me  already." 

In  the  afternoon  she  and  Webb,  with  a  sleigh  well  laden, 
drove  into  the  mountains  on  a  visit  to  Lumley.  He  had 
repaired  the  rough,  rocky  lane  leading  through  the  wood 
to  what  was  no  longer  a  wretched  hovel.  The  inmates  had 
been  expecting  this  visit,  and  Lumley  rushed  bareheaded 
out-of-doors  the  moment  he  heard  the  bells.  Although  he 
had  swept  a  path  from  his  door  again  and  again,  the  high 
wind  would  almost  instantly  drift  in  the  snow.  Poor  Lum 
ley  had  never  heard  of  Sir  Walter  Ealeigh  or  Queen  Eliza 
beth,  but  he  had  given  his  homage  to  a  better  queen,  and 
with  loyal  impulse  he  instantly  threw  off  his  coat,  and  laid 
it  on  the  snow,  that  Amy  might  walk  dry-shod  into  the 


CHRISTMAS   LIGHTS   AND   SHADOWS  473 

single  room  that  formed  his  home.  She  and  Webb  smiled 
significantly  at  each  other,  and  then  the  young  girl  put  her 
hand  into  that  of  the  mountaineer  as  he  helped  her  from  the 
sleigh,  and  said  "Merry  Christmas  1"  with  a  smile  that 
brought  tears  into  the  eyes  of  the  grateful  man. 

"Yer  making  no  empty  wish,  Miss  Amy.  I  never 
thought  sich  a  Christmas  'ud  ever  come  to  me  or  mine. 
But  come  in,  come  in  out  of  the  cold  wind,  an'  see  how 
you've  changed  everything.  Go  in  with  her,  Mr.  Webb, 
an'  I'll  tie  an'  blanket  your  hoss.  Lord,  to  think  that  sich 
a  May  blossom  'ud  go  into  my  hutl" 

They  entered,  and  Mrs.  Lumley,  neatly  clad  in  some 
dark  woollen  material,  made  a  queer,  old-fashioned  courtesy 
that  her  husband  had  had  her  practice  for  the  occasion. 
But  the  baby,  now  grown  into  a  plump,  healthy  child, 
greeted  her  benefactress  with  nature's  own  grace,  crowing, 
laughing,  and  calling,  "Pitty  lady;  nice  lady,"  with  ex 
uberant  welcome.  The  inmates  did  not  now  depend  for 
precarious  warmth  upon  two  logs,  reaching  across  a  dirty 
floor  and  pushed  together,  but  a  neat  box,  painted  green, 
was  filled  with  billets  of  wood.  The  carpeted  floor  was 
scrupulously  clean,  and  so  was  the  bright  new  furniture. 
A  few  evergreen  wreaths  hung  on  the  walls  with  the  pictures 
that  Amy  had  given,  and  on  the  mantel  was  her  photograph 
— poor  Lumley 's  patron  saint. 

Webb  brought  in  his  armful  of  gifts,  and  Amy  took  the 
child  on  her  lap  and  opened  a  volume  of  dear  old  "Mother 
Goose,"  profusely  illustrated  in  colored  prints — that  classic 
that  appeals  alike  to  the  hearts  of  children,  whether  in 
mountain  hovels  or  city  palaces.  The  man  looked  on  as 
if  dazed.  "Mr.  Webb,"  he  said,  in  his  loud  whisper,  "I 
once  saw  a  picter  of  the  Virgin  and  Child.  Oh,  golly,  how 
she  favors  it!" 

"Mrs.  Lumley,"  Amy  began,  "I  think  your  housekeeping 
does  you  much  credit.  I've  not  seen  a  neater  room  anywhere. ' ' 

"Well,  mum,  my  ole  man's  turned  over  a  new  leaf  sure 
nuflE.  There's  no  livin'  with  him  unless  every  think  is  jes 


474  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

so,  an,  I  guess  it's  better  so,  too.  Ef  I  let  things  git  slack, 
he  gits  mighty  savage." 

"You  must  try  to  be  patient,  Mr.  Lumley.  You've 
made  great  changes  for  the  better,  but  you  must  remember 
that  old  ways  can't  be  broken  up  in  a  moment" 

"Lor'  bless  yer,  Miss  Arny,  there's  nothink  like  breakin' 
off  short,  there's  nothink  like  turnin'  the  corner  sharp,  and 
fightin'  the  devil  tooth  and  nail.  It's  an  awful  tussle  at 
first,  an'  I  thought  J  was  goin'  to  knuckle  under  more'n 
once.  So  I  would  ef  it  hadn't  'a  ben  fer  you,  but  you  give 
me  this  little  han',  Miss  Amy,  an'  looked  at  me  as  if  I  wa'n't 
a  beast,  an'  it's  ben  a  liftin'  me  up  ever  sence.  Oh,  I've  had 
good  folks  talk  at  me  an'  lecter,  an'  I  ben  in  jail,  but  it  all 
on'y  made  me  mad.  The  best  on  'em  wouldn't  'a  teched 
me  no  more  than  they  would  a  rattler,  sich  as  we  killed  on 
the  mountain.  But  you  guv  me  yer  han',  Miss  Amy,  an' 
thar's  mine  on  it  agin;  I'm  goin'  to  be  a  man.'11 

She  took  the  great  horny  palm  in  both  her  hands.  "You 
make  me  very  happy,"  she  said,  simply,  looking  at  him 
above  the  head  of  his  child,  "and  I'm  sure  your  wife  is 
going  to  help  you.  I  shall  enjoy  the  holidays  far  more  for 
this  visit.  You've  told  us  good  news,  and  we've  got  good 
news  for  you  and  your  wife.  Tell  him,  Webb. ' ' 

"Yes,  Lumley,"  said  Webb,  clapping  the  man  on  the 
shoulder,  "famous  news.  This  little  girl  has  been  helping 
me  just  as  much  as  she  has  you,  and  she  has  promised  to 
help  me  through  life.  One  of  these  days  we  shall  have  a 
home  of  our  own,  and  you  shall  have  a  cottage  near  it,  and 
the  little  girl  here  that  you've  named  Amy  shall  go  to  school 
and  have  a  better  chance  than  you  and  your  wife  have  had." 

"Oh,  goshwalader!"  exclaimed  the  man,  almost  breaking 
out  into  a  hornpipe.  "The  Lord  on'y  knows  what  will  hap 
pen  ef  things  once  git  a  goin'  right!  Mr.  Webb,  thar's  my 
han'  agin'.  Ef  yer'd  gone  ter  heaven  fer  her,  yer  couldn't 
'a  got  sich  a  gell.  Well,  well,  give  me  a  chance  on  yer 
place,  an'  I'll  work  fer  yer  all  the  time,  even  nights  an' 
Sundays. ' ' 


CHRISTMAS   LIGHTS   AND   SHADOWS  475 

It  was  hard  for  them  to  get  away.  The  child  dropped 
her  books  and  toys,  and  clung  to  Amy.  "She  knows  yer; 
she  knows  all  about  yer,"  said  the  delighted  father.  "Well, 
ef  yer  must  go,  yer'll  take  suthin'  with  us;"  and  from  a 
great  pitcher  of  milk  he  filled  several  goblets,  and  they  all 
drank  to  the  health  of  little  Amy.  "Yer'll  fin'  half-dozen 
pa'triges  under  the  seat,  Miss  Amy,"  he  said,  as  they  drove 
away.  "I  was  bound  I'd  have  some  kind  of  a  present  fer 
yer." 

She  waved  her  hand  back  to  him,  and  saw  him  standing 
bareheaded  in  the  cutting  wind,  looking  after  her. 

"Poor  old  Lumley  was  right, "  said  Webb,  drawing  her 
to  him;  "I  do  feel  as  if  I  had  received  my  little  girl  from 
heaven.  We  will  give  those  people  a  chance,  and  try  to 
turn  the  law  of  heredity  in  the  right  direction." 

In  the  twilight  of  that  evening,  Mr.  Alvord  sat  over  his 
lonely  hearth,  his  face  buried  in  his  hands.  The  day  had 
been  terribly  long  and  torturing;  memory  had  presented, 
like  mocking  spectres,  his  past  and  what  it  might  have  been. 
A  sense  of  loneliness,  a  horror  of  great  darkness,  over 
whelmed  him.  Nature  had  grown  cold  and  forbidding, 
and  was  losing  its  power  to  solace.  Johnnie,  absorbed  in 
her  Christmas  preparations,  had  not  been  to  see  him  for  a 
long  time.  He  had  gone  to  inquire  after  her  on  the  previ 
ous  evening,  and  through  the  lighted  window  of  the  Clif 
ford  home  had  seen  a  picture  that  had  made  his  own  abode 
appear  desolate  indeed.  In  despairing  bitterness  he  had 
turned  away,  feeling  that  that  happy  home  was  no  more  a 
place  for  him  than  was  heaven.  He  had  wandered  out  into 
the  storm  for  hours,  like  a  lost  spirit,  and  at  last  had  re 
turned  and  slept  in  utter  exhaustion.  On  the  morning  pre 
ceding  Christmas  memory  awoke  with  him,  and  as  night 
approached  he  was  sinking  into  sullen,  dreary  apathy. 

There  was  a  light  tap  at  the  door,  but  he  did  not  hear  it. 
A  child's  face  peered  in  at  his  window,  and  Johnnie  saw 
him  cowering  over  his  dying  fire.  She  had  grown  accus 
tomed  to  his  moods,  and  had  learned  to  be  fearless,  for  she 


476  NATURE'S   SERIAL   STORY 

had  banished  his  evil  spells  before.  Therefore  she  entered 
softly,  laid  down  her  bundles  and  stood  beside  him. 

"Mr.  Alvordl"  she  said,  laying  her  hand  on  his  shoul 
der.  He  started  up,  and  at  the  same  moment  a  flickering 
blaze  rose  on  the  hearth,  and  revealed  the  sunny- haired 
child  standing  beside  him.  If  an  angel  had  come,  the  effect 
could  not  have  been  greater.  Like  all  who  are  morbid,  he 
was  largely  under  the  dominion  of  imagination;  and  John 
nie,  with  her  fearless,  gentle,  commiserating  eyes,  had  for 
him  the  potency  of  a  supernatural  visitor.  But  the  health 
ful,  unconscious  child  had  a  better  power.  Her  words  and 
touch  brought  saneness  as  well  as  hope. 

"Why,  Mr.  Alvord,"  she  cried,  "were  you  asleep? 
See!  your  fire  is  going  out,  and  your  lamp  is  not  lighted, 
and  there  is  nothing  ready  for  your  supper.  What  a  queer 
man  you  are,  for  one  who  is  so  kind!  Mamma  said  I  might 
come  and  spend  a  little  of  Christmas-eve  with  you,  and 
bring  my  gifts,  and* then  that  you  would  bring  me  home. 
I  know  how  to  fix  up  your  fire  and  light  your  lamp.  Then 
we'll  get  supper  together.  Won't  that  be  fun?"  and  she 
bustled  around,  the  embodiment  of  beautiful  life. 

"Oh,  Johnnie!"  he  said,  taking  her  sweet  face  in  his 
hands,  and  looking  into  her  clear  eyes,  "Heaven  must  have 
sent  you.  I  was  so  lonely  and  sad  that  I  wished  I  bad 
never  lived." 

"Why,  Mr.  Alvord!  and  on  Christmas-eve,  too?  See 
what  I've  brought  you,"  and  she  opened  a  book  with  the 
angels'  song  of  "peace  and  good- will"  illustrated.  "Mamma 
says  that  whoever  believes  that  ought  to  be  happy,"  said 
the  child.  "  Don '  t  you  believe  it  ?' ' 

"Yes,  it's  true  for  those  who  are  like  you  and  your 
mother." 

She  leaned  against  him,  and  looked  over  his  shoulder  at 
the  pictures.  "Mr.  Alvord,  mamma  said  the  song  was  for 
you,  too.  Of  course,  mamma's  right.  What  else  did  He 
come  for  but  to  help  people  who  are  in  trouble  ?  I  read 
stories  about  Him  every  Sunday  to  mamma,  and  He  was 


CHRISTMAS   LIGHTS   AND   SHADOWS  477 

always  helping  people  who  were  in  trouble,  and  who  had 
done  wrong.  That's  why  we  are  always  glad  on  Christmas. 
You  look  at  the  book  while  I  set  your  table." 

He  did  look  at  it  till  his  eyes  were  blinded  with  tears, 
and  like  a  sweet  refrain  came  the  words,  "A  little  child 
shall  lead  them." 

Half  an  hour  later  Leonard,  with  a  kindly  impulse, 
thought  he  would  go  to  take  by  the  hand  Johnnie's  strange 
friend,  and  see  how  the  little  girl  was  getting  on.  The 
scene  within,  as  he  passed  the  window,  checked  his  steps. 
Johnnie  sat  at  the  foot  of  Mr.  Alvord's  table,  pouring  tea 
for  him,  chattering  meanwhile  with  a  child's  freedom,  and 
the  hermit  was  looking  at  her  with  such  a  smile  on  his 
haggard  face  as  Leonard  had  never  seen  there.  He  walked 
quietly  home,  deferring  his  call  till  the  morrow,  feeling  that 
Johnnie's  spell  must  not  be  broken. 

An  hour  later  Mr.  Alvord  put  Johnnie  down  at  her 
home,  for  he  had  insisted  on  carrying  her  through  the 
snow,  and  for  the  first  time  kissed  her,  as  he  said: 

"Good- by.  You,  to-night,  have  been  like  one  of  the 
angels  that  brought  the  tidings  of  'peace  and  good- will.'  " 

"I'm  sorry  for  him,  mamma!"  said  the  little  girl,  after 
telling  her  story,  "for  he's  very  lonely,  and  he's  such  a 
queer,  nice  man.  Isn't  it  funny  that  he  should  be  so  old, 
and  yet  not  know  why  we  keep  Christmas  ?" 

Amy  sang  again  the  Christmas  hymn  that  her  own  father 
and  the  father  who  had  adopted  her  had  loved  so  many 
years  before.  "My  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Clifford,  as  he  was 
fondly  bidding  her  good-night,  "how  sweetly  you  have  ful 
filled  the  hopes  you  raised  one  year  ago!" 

Mrs.  Clifford  had  gone  to  her  room,  leaning  on  the  arm 
of  Gertrude.  As  the  invalid  kissed  her  in  parting,  she  said: 

"You  have  beautiful  eyes,  my  dear,  and  they  have  seen 
far  more  of  the  world  than  mine,  but,  thank  God,  they  are 
clear  and  true.  Keep  them  so,  my  child,  that  I  may  wel 
come  you  again  to  a  better  home  than  this." 

Once  more  "the  old  house  stood  silent  and  dark  in  the 


478  NATURE'S   SERIAL    STORY 

pallid  landscape."  The  winds  were  hushed,  as  if  the  peace 
within  had  been  breathed  into  the  very  heart  of  Nature, 
and  she,  too,  could  rest  in  her  wintry  sleep.  The  moon 
was  obscured  by  a  veil  of  clouds,  and  the  outlines  of  the 
trees  were  faint  upon  the  snow.  A  shadowy  form  drew 
near;  a  man  paused,  and  looked  upon  the  dwelling.  "If 
the  angels'  song  could  be  heard  anywhere  to-night,  it  should 
be  over  that  home,"  Mr.  Alvord  murmured;  but,  even  to 
his  morbid  fancy,  the  deep  silence  of  the  night  remained 
unbroken.  He  returned  to  his  home,  and  sat  down  in  the 
firelight.  A  golden- haired  child  again  leaned  upon  his 
shoulder,  and  asked,  "What  else  did  He  come  for  but  to 
help  people  who  are  in  trouble,  and  who  have  done 
wrong?"  He  started  up.  Was  it  a  voice  deep  in  his  own 
soul  that  was  longing  to  escape  from  evil  ?  or  was  it  a  har 
mony  far  away  in  the  sky,  that  whispered  of  peace  at  last  ? 
That  message  from  heaven  is  clearest  where  the  need  is 
greatest. 

Mr.  Hargrove's  home  was  almost  a  palace,  but  its  stately 
rooms  were  desolate  on  Christmas-eve.  He  wandered  rest 
lessly  through  their  magnificence.  He  paid  no  heed  to  the 
costly  furniture  and  costlier  works  of  art.  "Trurie  was 
right,"  he  muttered.  "What  power  have  these  things  to 
satisfy  when  the  supreme  need  of  the  heart  is  unsatisfied  ? 
It  seems  as  if  I  could  not  sleep  to-night  without  seeing  her. 
There  is  no  use  in  disguising  the  truth  that  I'm  losing  her. 
Even  on  Christmas-eve  she  is  absent.  It's  late,  and  since 
I  cannot  see  her,  I'll  see  her  gift;"  and  he  went  to  her 
room,  where  she  had  told  him  to  look  for  her  remembrance. 
To  his  surprise,  he  found  that,  according  to  her  secret  in 
structions,  it  was  lighted.  He  entered  the  dainty  apart 
ment,  and  saw  the  glow  of  autumn  leaves  and  the  airy 
grace  of  ferns  around  the  pictures  and  windows.  He  started, 
for  he  almost  saw  herself,  so  true  was  the  life-size  and  life 
like  portrait  that  smiled  upon  him.  Beneath  it  were  the 
words,  "Merry  Christmas,  papa!  You  have  not  lost  me; 
you  have  only  made  me  happy." 


CHRISTMAS    LIGHTS    AND   SHADOWS  479 

The  moon  is  again  rising  over  old  Storm  King;  the  crys 
tals  that  cover  the  white  fields  and  meadows  are  beginning 
to  flash  in  its  rays;  the  great  pine  by  the  Clifford  home  is 
sighing  and  moaning.  What  heavy  secret  has  the  old  tree 
that  it  can  sigh  with  such  a  group  near  as  is  now  gathered 
beneath  it?  Burt's  black  horse  rears  high  as  he  reins  him 
in,  that  Gertrude  may  spring  into  the  cutter,  then  speeds 
away  like  a  shadow  through  the  moonlight.  Webb's  steed 
is  strong  and  quiet,  like  himself,  and  as  tireless.  Amy  steps 
to  Webb's  side,  feeling  it  to  be  her  place  in  very  truth. 
Sable  Abram  draws  up  next,  with  the  great  family  sleigh, 
and  in  a  moment  Alf  is  perched  beside  him.  Then  Leonard 
half  smothers  Johnnie  and  Ned  under  the  robes,  and  Mag 
gie,  about  to  pick  her  way  through  the  snow,  finds  herself 
taken  up  in  strong  arms,  like  one  of  the  children,  and  is 
with  them.  The  chime  of  bells  dies  away  in  the  distance. 
Wedding- bells  will  be  their  echo. 

The  merry  Christmas- day  has  passed.  Dr.  and  Mrs. 
Marvin,  the  Eev.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Barkdale,  and  other  friends 
have  come  and  gone  with  their  greetings;  the  old  people 
are  left  alone  beside  their  cheery  fire. 

"Here  we  are,  mother,  all  by  ourselves,  just  as  we  were 
once  before  on  Christmas  night,  when  you  were  as  fair  and 
blooming  as  Amy  or  Gertrude.  Well,  my  dear,  the  long 
journey  seems  short  to-night.  I  suppose  the  reason  is  that 
you  have  been  such  good  company." 

"Dear  old  father,  the  journey  would  have  been  long  and 
weary  indeed,  had  I  not  had  your  strong  arm  to  lean  upon, 
and  a  love  that  didn't  fade  with  my  roses.  There  is  only 
one  short  journey  before  us  now,  father,  and  then  we  shall 
know  fully  the  meaning  of  the  'good  tidings  of  great  joy' 
forever. ' ' 

THE   END 


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